We're going to kill you
by krigoo
Summary: This is the story of Cato and Clove's experience in the Hunger Games, through each of their points of view. Read this story if you want to join them for the ride.
1. Chapter 1

**CLOVE**

I wake up to the sound of my mother chirping about Reaping Day, which just so happens to be today. I sit up in my bed and see my mother fiddling with my brother's hair outside my doorway. She turns and sees I'm awake.

"Clove Florentia Helios! I thought you were awake and getting ready! Here I am, telling Rhodon that _he's_ running late, while you're in there sleeping!" my mother yells.

"Sorry, Mother. I'll hurry," I tell her.

"If you're not ready in 10 minutes, we'll leave you here! I won't risk the rest of the family being late."

"Yes, ma'am."

I walk swiftly into my parents' bedroom, where my Reaping Day dress is hanging crisply on a hanger. It is a soft, sage green dress with a bit of frill on the ends of the collar, sleeves, and bottom edge of the dress. I change into it, adjusting the soft material on my sleeves. I run to the bathroom, where I brush my teeth and pin half of my wavy brown hair back. I sigh, as I look in the mirror, my steely blue eyes peering back at me. I look naturally angry and aggressive; something my trainers have always said was an advantage if I were to ever get reaped.

Reaping day is a big deal here in District Two. We are trained from the age of seven to become a tribute in the Hunger Games, where two children from the age of 12 to 18 in each of the 12 districts are sent into an arena to battle to the death. The last person standing is crowned victor, and receives unimaginable wealth and also gets to live in a large house in what is called Victor's Village. In District 2, 10 of the 12 houses are currently occupied, but all houses in the Village have been occupied at one time or another, since District Two has one of the highest winning percentages out of all the districts.

I've trained since age five, since my father was once the Head Peacekeeper here in District Two, about 20 years ago. He retired after his required 20 years as a Peacekeeper were in, to settle down with my mother and have kids: my two brothers and me. In honor of his service, we were granted a house in one of the nicer areas of District Two. We're pretty well-off, financially speaking, since my mother is a quarry specialist, designing and planning new mines. My older brother, Pandanus, is a quarry supervisor, which is amazing, since he's only 19 years old. My younger 14-year-old brother, Rhodon, wanted to go off to Peacekeeper training two years ago, but my father refused to let him. I am not sure which path I'll take myself, but I'm considering volunteering to be a tribute in the Hunger Games in two years when I'm 18. My name's in the reaping ball 25 times this year. I've taken out tesserae for several reasons: to feel like I'm somewhat providing for my family, to intimidate others, and most of all, to influence my chances of being named District Two's tribute.

I throw on my shoes and bolt out the door just in time to meet up with some of my friends before the reaping.

My one friend, Rai, goes on and on about my dress, saying how lovely it was and how it would look great with her sage green eyes.

"You're not borrowing it, if that's what you're thinking," I tell her. Rai's smile drops. I don't care how mean that sounded; Rai is too chunky for my dress.

"I wasn't asking that…I…I was just going to ask where you got it…" she fumbles.

"As if I'd tell you that, anyway. You know how I feel about having the same clothes as someone else," I remind her. Wearing the same thing as someone is one of my biggest pet peeves. If I ever catch anyone wearing the same thing as me on a special occasion, _especially _if they look better than me in it, I make them pay. And I'm not talking money.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Clove," Rai apologizes. For her sake, I hope she never gets reaped. Rai is so soft and easily intimidated; she'd never last a day in the Games.

"Good. So, Turia, are you ready for the reaping?" I ask my other friend. There is no way Turia is prepared. She's almost as much of a weakling as Rai. It's just another reason to be friends with these two. Although they're weak, they make me look tougher _and_ they do whatever I say, possibly out of fear. Most likely out of fear. That's fine by me.

Turia confirms my thoughts and shakes her head. Whether these two are ready or not for the reaping, it is now time to take our places. I stand with the other sixteen-year-old girls and turn behind me to my left to catch a glimpse of Rhodon, hair coifed, lips pursed, eyes like stone, and fists clenched. He blinks, and then looks my way. I give him a sort-of smirk, and he returns the look. I scan the rest of the boys, who all look confident and eager. I then scan the girls, seeing that only about half the girls look like that as well. I am one of them. The rest look slightly nervous, but I'm not sure why they would be. Even if they are reaped and are ill-prepared, sponsors drool over the District Two tributes every year. They'll be in an alliance with the other tributes from Panem's elite districts: 1, 2, and 4.

My thoughts are broken up by the voice of District Two's escort, Magnus Jollyberry, a middle-aged, Capitol-born man. He gives his usual, yearly speech, along with our mayor. I try to look like I'm indulging in every word pouring out of their mouths, but I really just want to get to the reaping. I tune back in just in time.

"Let's begin with our lovely ladies!" Magnus beams. He reaches his hand into the large glass ball containing the names of all teenage girls in the district. He swirls his hand around and selects a slip.

My ears begin to ring. The silence in the town square is so loud that it hurts. Am I nervous? Not the least bit. My ears hurt so much that I almost miss the name being read.

"Clove Helios."

**CATO**

I wake at the crack of dawn to do a little more training before the reaping today. I lift some weights I made out of rocks, jog around the block, and do pull-ups in the doorway to my bedroom. I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, style my hair, and admire my muscles in the mirror. I hear a knock on the door.

"Cato, you better hurry up. Your brother and sister need to get ready, too, you know," my mother calls from outside the door. I swing open the door and kiss my mother on the cheek.

"What was that for?" she asks.

"Well, I'll be gone for a few weeks. When I come back, you'll get the same thing," I reply.

I'm set to go into the Hunger Games this year. I've threatened every guy in District Two that if I'm reaped and they volunteer, or if they volunteer for someone before I do, I'll personally harm their family, and them if they make it back. I doubt anyone would be better suited to be reaped, anyway. I've trained since I was five, since my uncle, Brutus Vespillo, won the Hunger Games about 20-30 years ago. He is considered one of the most brutal victors in the history of the Games. I've trained nearly every day for the past 13 years. I couldn't possibly be more prepared.

My younger brother and sister, who are twins, are the most annoying beings on the planet. They're 13 years old and the apples of my parents' eyes. My father, the meanest, most strict, severe, harsh, stern, demanding, uncompromising, unsympathetic man in the district, hates me and lets me know it. The feeling is mutual. What makes me hate him more is the love he has for my siblings. My sister, Minerva, is his "little princess" and he spoils her rotten. My brother, Atticus, is where he holds all his hope. My father lives his dreams through Atticus. He's making him enroll to be a Peacekeeper next year, which is fine by me. The less I see of that kid, the better. If only my father would make Minerva be a Peacekeeper, too. It doesn't matter, though. When I come back from the Games, I will receive my house in Victor's Village, and the only person I'll invite to live with me is my mother. She'll refuse, out of fear of what my father would do. When she refuses my offer, I'll just invite the lineup of girls who want to be with me to live in my house. My siblings will pester me and drool over me, begging to share the wealth of being a victor, but I'll refuse. They've tortured me ever since they were born. I'd probably kill them if they didn't mean so much to my mother. I'd probably kill my father, too.

My mother is the only person I've ever loved. Even after the twin demons were born, she's loved me and treated me well. She loves me regardless of what I do, and I love her for that.

I walk into my room and dress in my button-down light blue shirt and khaki pants. I slip into my shoes, and as I turn to leave my room I bump into my father.

"Cato, a word, please," he booms. My father only uses polite words such as please and thank you when he's mad or giving orders. This time, I'm expecting both. He closes the door and sits on my bed.

"Why isn't your bed made? I taught you better than that," he growls. I know for a fact I made it this morning. I hear the snickers of my brother and sister outside my door, confirming my suspicions that they messed up my bed. I can't tell my father this, though. Not only will he defend them, but he will reprimand me. His anger over my bed being unmade will be less than if I were to blame my siblings, so I just apologize for not making it.

"Anyway, Cato, I know you're going to volunteer to be a tribute today. I wanted to tell you that I support you 100%. I'll be rooting for you, son." He slaps me on the shoulder with the most fake smile I've ever seen.

"Yeah, right. You're just saying this because you know I'm going to win and you want me to share my winnings with you. Well, guess what? That's too bad. It's a little too late to try to repair our relationship now!" I storm out of the house, promising myself to never see his face again. Just in my fit of anger, I've broken a bunch of my father's rules: false accusations, talking back, yelling at him, leaving a room without permission, need I go on?

I reach the town square in no time at all. I've just ran over a mile, and not one drop of sweat or bit of fatigue. I congratulate myself, and walk over to the crowd of other 18-year-old boys forming. I chat with some friends and soon enough, the mayor and the Hunger Games escort are giving their speeches. I silently plead for my sister to be reaped, so I can kill her with my own bare hands. I don't want my brother reaped, because either I'll volunteer for him, which would make it seem like I care about him, or I let him go into the Games, where if he makes it back, he won't let me hear the end of it. I'd also have blown my last chance at being victor, and I can't let that happen.

I tune in to hear Magnus, the escort, say, "Let's begin with our lovely ladies!" He reaches into the bowl, containing tens of thousands of names. He selects the slip he wants, and hops back to the microphone. He unfolds the paper and reads the name written on it.

"Clove Helios."

Oh, no. Anyone but her.


	2. Chapter 2

**CLOVE**

I hear my name, but my brain doesn't register it immediately. It takes about 5 seconds for me to realize the name Magnus spoke was mine. Embarrassed, but refusing to show it, I confidently take the stage. I give my smirk-smile to the crowd and, more importantly, the cameras. I hear applause and some noise that I'm not sure is a shriek or a whistle.

Magnus motions for the crowd to calm down so he can ask for volunteers. No one moves a muscle. Fine by me. Magnus proceeds to draw the name of my fellow tribute. He uses the same procedure to draw the name of the male tribute. He swirls the ball, draws a slip, and waltzes back to the microphone. He unfolds the paper and reads the name.

"Felix Volascae."

Shrill gasps, moans, and sounds of dissent come from the crowd. Felix is a small 12-year-old boy who is not totally right in the head. He twitches and shouts out things he doesn't mean to say. I look to the twelve-year-old boys and see some kids nudge him and tell him that his name was called. I hear some boys towards the front say, "Oh, it'll be alright. He won't need to worry about going to the Games. He's safe."

Safe? Not going to the Games? His name was called. He's going to the Games, like it or not. Unless of course there's a volunteer. A volunteer! Oh, no. It's going to be one of those volunteer years. Sometimes an older, well-trained boy will volunteer just for the pride of winning the Games. An older, well-trained boy will most likely mean my death. I cannot let that happen. I decide to hate whoever steps forward to volunteer. I will let this premature hatred fester inside me until it is time for me to kill this boy. I cannot show right away that I hate him, though, since we are guaranteed to be in an alliance for the first week or two of the Games.

Then the tiny, kind-thinking voice inside me says, _Clove. Don't get ahead of yourself. Maybe those boys meant someone will volunteer out of the kindness of their heart to spare that poor little boy misery. _If this voice were a real person, I'd tear its voice box out with my own bare hands. I can't afford to think like that. This is the Hunger Games.

I snap back to reality when Felix mounts the stage unsteadily, almost falling. I reach out my hand to help him, cursing myself under my breath. I can't appear nice and kind to all of Panem! I've been trying to appear mean, brutal, and relentless. I might have just blown that to help this damaged little boy.

"Why, Clove, that was very kind of you," Magnus says. I scowl, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Now, are there any volunteers to replace this young man?"

"I volunteer!" yells a raised hand from the 18-year-old section.

"Would you please come forward, sir, and join us on the stage?" Magnus asks.

The hand lowers, and I can't quite make out the owner until he's mounting the steps to the stage. Cato Luxor. Of all the people here, _anyone_ but him.

I guess it makes sense he'd volunteer. He's the strongest, toughest boy I've ever seen. Quite frankly, he frightens me. But I won't let anyone know it, especially him.

Cato takes the stage and fist pumps vigorously, which sends the crowd into frenzy. I truly do hate this boy. He is the only person I've ever met more arrogant than myself. I can only hope I get the opportunity to kill him myself.

"And what might your name be, young man?" Magnus glows. There's something about volunteer tributes that makes the Capitol citizens extra excited.

"Cato Luxor, your next victor," he smirks, if for no other reason but to irritate me. He obviously picked up on my signature smirk. I make a mental note to smirk as I kill him about a week or two from now.

As Cato and I shake hands, he grips my right hand so tight, I'm afraid my fingers will fall off. I respond by digging my long nails into his hand. His eyes widen, then crinkle as we unlatch.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, your tributes from District Two!" Magnus cries. The crowd once again roars.

I turn my head to Cato as he simultaneously does the same to me. I narrow my eyebrows, which brings a sneer out of him. If he's trying to get under my skin, it's working. I shake my head at him slightly, then turn back to the crowd. I keep playing out scenarios in my head of his slow and painful death by my hand. This seems to soothe me, so I embrace it. I promise myself to kill this boy if it's the last thing I do.

**CATO**

Clove. I've seen her harassing, bullying, and beating up kids constantly. Just an unhappy look her way will send her into a fit of anger, her fists flying. She did a number on my sister last spring when Minerva bumped into Clove at lunch. She took it the wrong way and gave Minerva a black eye. Ever since then, I've had respect for Clove.

I turn back to my right and see Clove leaving the group of 16-year-old girls and making her way to the stage. She floats up the steps to the stage and gives the crowd what I take to be her idea of an intimidating look. I think it may be a smirk. I almost laugh out loud, but catch myself. I politely clap and wait for the next name to be drawn. Magnus strolls over to the bubble of names and takes his pick. He moseys back to the microphone and clears his throat.

"Felix Volascae," he reads.

I have never heard the name myself, but I don't care. He'll be eternally grateful after I volunteer, since anyone is ill-prepared for these Games compared to me.

People groan and begin to weep. I whip my head around to see a sad-looking little boy twitching his way towards the stage. I feel a strange pang of what I can only describe as sympathy, though I think I've only felt it a few times before. This little boy looks mentally damaged. If I volunteer for this kid, the sponsors will probably eat this up. The other tributes may view me as soft, which will only be proven wrong when I cruelly kill them. I decide not to care who Felix is or what's wrong with him. It's none of my concern.

Felix reaches the steps and stumbles, but is caught by an extended arm. My eyes travel up the arm to find its owner. Clove. Unexpected, but okay. Maybe she's playing the sympathy card, herself. I read the curse word coming off her lips and snicker. She doesn't seem too in-control of her actions.

Magnus asks for volunteers and I swing my arm up, lunging forward. Magnus asks me to take the stage, and I do immediately. I turn to the crowd and pump my fist in the air. Magnus asks for my name, and I respond in the most honest way I can.

"Cato Luxor, your next victor." I turn slightly to Clove, making sure she catches my smirk. She looks appalled, just as I'd hoped.

I take Clove's hand and grip it as tight as I can without breaking it. A vein pops out in her right temple as her eyes bug out, and she grins as her nails pierce my hand. I feel my eyes begin to pop out as well, and almost laugh, because I begin to think that we're a little too much alike. We release our agonizing grip and turn to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, your tributes from District Two!" announces Magnus.

I turn my head to Clove, to see that she's doing just the same. She tries to give me a threatening look by lowering her eyebrows, but I snicker in return. I feel the heat of her anger radiating off of her. I can't help but think what a fun time I'll have with Clove in these Games.


	3. Chapter 3

**CLOVE**

The anthem plays, but I'm not really paying attention. All I can think of is the slowest, most painful death I can give Cato. I'm almost positive he'll be the one to kill in these Games. If I succeed, I'm pretty much guaranteed to win.

I snap back to reality when Cato and I are being escorted into the Justice Building by a group of Peacekeepers. They direct us each into separate rooms where we will bid farewell to our families. I plop down on a couch and start digging my thumb nail into the fabric. I swipe my hand back and forth, trying to see if I can slice the couch. No such luck.

I hear the door open, and look up to see my parents. They embrace me, and we just stand there in each others arms for a century before I pull away.

"I don't know why you two seem so worried," I say. "I'll be coming back."

"Clove, don't be so confident. Always prepare for the worst," my father replies a little dismally. I narrow my eyes in a mix of anger and bewilderment. Does he think I will lose?

"Why are you telling me this, Father?" I ask.

"That Cato boy seems awfully…brutal. Strong. I'm not sure you can beat him," he replies.

"Mother?" I ask, looking for her assuring words.

"I think you'll make it far, dear," she tells me.

"But you don't think I'll win?" I ask angrily.

"I think there's a chance…if Cato is killed. If he's out of the competition, I'm confident you'll return," she answers.

"Well, you don't need to worry about that, Mother. I'm going to kill him personally," I gloat. A Peacekeeper appears in the doorway, and just like that, my parents are gone.

My next visitor is my little brother, Rhodon. He walks in the door, head down. He looks up and me, and melts.

"Oh, Clove!" he sobs. "You've got to come back! You've got to win!" We're in each other's arms, in an embrace that no one can break. He's a few inches taller than me, so I'm on my tiptoes, and his neck is craned down and resting on my shoulder. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek and land on Rhodon's shirt.

"Rhodon, I'm coming back. I'm going to win. Trust me," I say into his shoulder.

We stop hugging, and I find I've left a puddle on his shoulder, and he left an even bigger one on mine. Rhodon has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. Being only two years apart, we were inseparable. We would fight each other's battles, do each other's homework, keep each other's secrets. We still do.

"Clove, listen. You've got more skill in one finger than any other tribute has in their whole body, I'm sure. Just do whatever it takes to win," Rhodon tells me. I nod. I'm fighting back more tears, because I can't let the whole country see that I've been crying when I get out of the Justice Building. I'm guaranteed half a dozen cameras in my face. If I appear any softer than I already have when I helped Felix up the steps, I won't even get the slightest consideration from a sponsor.

Why would I be crying anyway? I'm coming back. But maybe it's because your life changes after the Games. I won't go to school anymore, I'll have more wealth than I know what to do with, and I'll get one of the nicest houses in the District. Then what's bothering me? I know. It's Rhodon. Our relationship will most likely become strained due to my celebrity status. And I'll be gone on the Victory Tour and the next few summers will be taken up by mentoring future tributes. My little brother and I will be separated for longer than either of us will be able to handle. Even this next month or so will be heartbreaking.

"Clove, I need you to win these Games and come home," Rhodon pleads, snapping me back to the present.

"I will," I assure him. I allow a tear to trickle down my cheek and put on a brave face, even though I don't need to around Rhodon, the only person who's ever seen the soft, caring side of me. We hug one last time, and the Peacekeeper enters once again. As he escorts my brother out, we're telling each other, "I love you, I love you," until the door closes.

I sigh, and continue trying to slice the couch again when the door opens once more. I'm sure this is to lead me out of the Justice Building, and send me to the Capitol. I look up and meet the eyes of a young man I haven't seen in a year.

"Clove," Pandanus whispers.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him. My older brother, Pandanus has been working in the quarry since the day he turned 18 to support his wife, Gwenore. They got married about a month before Pandanus's eighteenth birthday. They moved into their own house and we haven't heard from them since.

"I came to wish my little sister good luck," he smiles. "Although I'm sure you won't need it."

"You're just saying that because you want me to share my wealth with you when I come back," I reply.

"Now, Clove, you know that's not true. I don't accept money from people for no reason." That's true. My father offered Pandanus enough money to get his new family started off well, but Pandanus refused. He doesn't accept money without working for it.

"Then what's your ulterior motive?" I ask. I've learned to trust no one but Rhodon and myself.

"I don't have one, Clove. I just wanted to let you know that I'm rooting for you. I think you can win."

Wow. My older brother, whom I haven't seen in a year, whom I barely talked to when I saw him everyday, is the only person who believes in me.

"Thanks, Pandanus. Really, I appreciate it," I tell him.

"I really miss seeing you, kid. It's not the same without seeing your bright scowl everyday," he says with a short chuckle.

"I…I miss you too," I reply. He looks more worn down than I remember. Bags under his eyes, a few wrinkles here and there, but one thing remains the same: the gleam in his steely blue eyes. He works hard, but he's happy. "How are you and Gwenore?"

"Great, thanks. I'm still in the quarry almost every day, and Gwenore's been working in a shop downtown," he informs.

"That's great," I tell him. It's when I hear about his life that I realize how much I really do miss him. I wrap my arms around him, and he returns the hug.

"This is my first day off in a while," he says. "I'm going to visit Mother and Father and Rhodon later. I was going to visit you too, if you hadn't gotten reaped."

"But you're visiting me anyway," I remind him.

"True," he says with a laugh. We hug again, and he's summoned out.

I grab one of the pillows from the couch and sink my teeth in it and let out a muffled scream. I place the pillow back just in time for the Peacekeepers to take me out of the Justice Building to get in the car to travel the short ride to the train station. I was right about there being cameras, but there's more than I expected. I can only hope I look a cross between pleased and ruthless.

When I arrive at the train station, Cato and I must stand outside the train for the cameras, and then hop on board. The ride to the Capitol will only take a little more than two hours, allowing us time to eat dinner and watch all the reapings, Magnus Jollyberry tells us.

I'm taken to my quarters, and told that I may get a shower and wear what I like, but be ready for dinner in 20 minutes. I hop in the shower and get out in a matter of minutes, throwing on a blood-red silky skirt and black pants. I walk to the dining room, where Magnus and the District 2 mentors are sitting.

The male mentor, Antonius, won the Hunger Games eight years ago. He was brutal and wicked in his Games, just like the rest of the District 2 victors. He has auburn hair and hazel eyes. He looks my way, and grins.

The female mentor, Enobaria, won the Hunger Games twelve years ago, at the age of eighteen. She won her Games in a little over a week. She has dark blond hair with piercing blue eyes. She looks me up and down, and seems pleased. She folds her arms over her chest.

"Well, well, well. Looks like we have a contender here, Tony," she comments. She gets up from her chair and walks over to me. She takes my face in her hands, turning it from side to side. "Not the best-looking tribute this year, but not the worst-looking either. Let's see what you got."

I pick up a steak knife from the table and peer at the wall across from me, about 15 yards away. "See that fly on the wall there?" I ask them. They look, and nod. I back up, pull my arm back, and swing it forward, releasing the knife. I hit the fly, right in the middle of its body, plastering it to the wall.

"Not bad, honey," says a voice behind me. I whip around to see its owner, Cato, grinning down at me. "You'll have to do a lot better to beat me, though."

"I wouldn't be so sure, dear," I shoot back. "I'm accurate up to 50 yards."

Cato whistles. "Wait till you see me throw a spear. I'm accurate up to 60 yards."

"Alright, alright. First thing's first. Never reveal your strengths or weaknesses to your opponents unless you want them to kill you," Antonius says.

"Everyone sit down! You can talk strategy later. It's time for dinner!" Magnus announces. We obey, and gobble down the decadent meal. Cato and I stuff ourselves, which may have been a mistake. I'm struggling to keep everything down, and I glance at Cato and see he's doing the same.

When we're all done eating, we go to a compartment and see the reapings. I study each and every kid, trying to predict their strengths and weaknesses, and especially examine my allies and see what help they'll be to me.

The District 1 kids seem like nothing too special. The girl is unbelievably beautiful, but appears under-trained. The boy looks strong, but not as strong as Cato.

I'm next. I look confident, pleased, intimidating. Up until I help Felix mount the stage. I curse under my breath watching it, but Enobaria assures me anyone would have helped that little boy. Cato volunteers, looking monstrous next to me on the stage.

The District 3 kids look as scrawny and feeble as I expected. Easy kills.

The District 4 kids could be mistaken for siblings. They have the same strawberry blonde hair and sea green eyes. They're not much competition either, but if there's water in this arena, they'll be useful.

The District 5 kids are no threat. The girl has long, shiny red hair and is probably shorter than me. The boy has the same color hair and a similar small build.

The District 6 through 10 kids aren't even worth mentioning, they'll be gone so fast.

The District 11 kids have the same dark skin and eyes, but the similarity stops there. The girl is 12 years old, and about two thirds my size. The boy is most likely bigger than Cato and maybe even stronger. He looks angry enough to eat the little girl standing next to him.

Last but not least, there's District 12, the laughing stock of Panem. To prove it, their one and only mentor plummets off the stage, drunk. A 12-year-old girl is reaped, but quickly replaced by a volunteer. She's about as big as me, with brown hair and gray eyes, and looks nervous and upset. It's when she announces her name that it becomes known that the little girl she volunteered for was her sister. I become angry with this girl, seeing that she got the opportunity to save her wimpy little sister in such a way. If Rhodon was reaped, I'd love to volunteer for him, but since he's a boy and I'm a girl, it's not allowed. I feel jealous that she is able to do this. I add her to the "personal kill list" in my mind. The boy tribute is blonde-haired and blue-eyed, with a medium height and slightly above average strength. Not an easy kill, but not difficult either. I might let Cato kill him.

Just like that, the reapings are over, and we're sent to our quarters to wait out the remainder of the ride.

"Mind if I walk you to your room?" Cato asks me.

"Yes, I would mind," I reply.

"Well, that's too bad since my room's right across the hall. I have to walk you there regardless," he retorts.

I sigh, and begin to walk to my room, with Cato at my side.

"So what do you think of our future allies?" he asks.

"Nothing too special, but they could be useful," I answer.

"Agreed. I think we should let the boy from 11 in our alliance also. We'd be undefeatable."

I consider this. He's big and strong, and he knows edible plants since he's from 11. "Yes, I think so, too."

"Well, I'll see you in, what, a half hour or so?"

"See you then," I reply.

I walk into my room and as soon as I close the door, I walk towards the bed, but slump down on the floor as soon as the first tear spills over.

**CATO**

The anthem plays out, and Clove and I are quickly taken to the Justice Building, for Clove to say her final goodbyes, and for me to say goodbye for a while. We're ordered into our rooms, which are across the hall from each other. I sit down on the couch, grab one of the pillows, and put it at one end. I lie down, sprawling across the couch. I slowly close my eyes, when I hear the door open. I sit up to see who it is, and meet my mother's loving blue eyes and my father's cold hard gray eyes.

"Honey," my mother begins, but is wrapped in my arms too quickly to finish.

"Mother, I love you. I know I'll be back, but I'm going to miss you so much," I tell her.

"Oh, Cato, I love you, too," she says between sobs. We're there hugging for I don't know how long, when my father coughs awkwardly. My mother lets go of me, and manages to escape my embrace.

"Well, son, I'm disappointed in how you acted earlier," my father says. "You'll be punished when you return." He gives me his fake smile again to indicate his twisted sense of humor, trying to tell me he knows I'll make it back.

"You'll have no authority over me then. You don't already. I have nothing more to say to you," I tell him.

"Alright, then. If you feel that way, I won't waste my time. Goodbye, son," he says, and walks out the door.

"Mother, I don't know how you married that man. How do you tolerate him every day?" I ask her.

"Oh, Cato, he's your father. He raised you. He loves you," Mother says gently.

"That's the funniest thing I've heard all day," I retort. "He hates me and you know it."

My mother doesn't respond to that. She continues crying and manages out, "Cato, stay strong. Win."

I hug her again and promise to win. It's a promise I'll keep.

With that, the Peacekeepers come and she leaves. I sit there for a few minutes and hear hysterical sobbing coming from Clove's room. Whoever's in there, she must love them a lot.

The door opens again, and I'm met with my uncle, Brutus, and his barrage of advice.

"Your mentor will be Antonius, that buffoon who won 8 years back. I mentored him, and he didn't follow a single instruction. It's a wonder he won. Don't listen to most of his advice. Do what your gut tells you. Do what you think I'd do. Stay strong. Win," he advises. It dawns on me that my mother told me the same last few words. He must read my mind, or at least my expression, because he follows up by saying, "Your mother gave me that last bit of advice when we were saying our goodbyes about 25 years ago." He slaps me on the back, says goodbye, and leaves.

Before I know it, I'm being taken out of the Justice Building, blinded by cameras, thrown into a car to the train station, and whisked onto the train to the Capitol. It's a short train ride, only about 2 hours.

Magnus Jollyberry shows Clove her room first, then takes me to mine across the hall.

"You may shower and wear anything you like, as long as you're on time for dinner, which is in 20 minutes," Magnus instructs.

I take a hot shower for about 15 minutes, then throw on a dark blue shirt and tan pants. I stroll down to the dining room, where I came just in time to see Clove's back to me, arm bent back, knife in hand. Her brown wavy hair, still damp from her shower, sways slightly. She throws the knife so fast and with such precision, I'm almost speechless. Almost.

"Not bad, honey," I say smugly, staring down at Clove. She turns around and looks up at me, glaring. I feel her hot, angry breath pounding my chest. To add fuel to the fire, I add, "You'll have to do a lot better to beat me, though."

She gives me her classic smirk and retorts, "I wouldn't be so sure, dear. I'm accurate up to 50 yards."

I whistle in response. "Wait till you see me throw a spear. I'm accurate up to 60 yards." It may be exaggerating, it may not be. I'm not entirely sure how accurate I am, but I won't let Clove know that.

"Alright, alright. First thing's first. Never reveal your strengths or weaknesses to your opponents unless you want them to kill you," Antonius warns.

"Everyone sit down! You can talk strategy later. It's time for dinner!" Magnus announces. I do as I was told, and devour the meal faster than I've ever eaten. The food here is so amazingly good, I can't help but stuff myself. It's obviously a mistake, since Clove and I are beginning to gag. I look at the female mentor, Enobaria, who is quietly laughing at us.

Now that everyone's done eating, we're directed into the room where they show the reapings. I make mental notes of the strong and the weak.

The District 1, 2, and 4 tributes are automatic allies, since we all train our children prior to the Games, unlike the other Districts, who are usually ill-prepared. I make sure to pay extra attention to them.

The District 1 girl is dazzlingly gorgeous, though she seems inept with a weapon. The boy seems useful, but not too dangerous.

Clove looks proud, honored, triumphant. I, however, look brutal, unforgiving, merciless. If anyone is to be the one to beat in these Games, I'm sure it's me.

The District 3 kids are bound to be killed almost right off the bat, although their brains may keep them alive for a little while, but usually not long enough.

The District 4 kids are the typical tributes from their district: good, but not good enough to win.

The District 5 girl looks a bit mysterious, and I couldn't really tell what she was thinking when she was reaped. She just had a blank expression on her face, no sign of emotion. The boy is small, and is sure to be killed quickly.

The District 6 through 10 kids will die within days and aren't even worth discussing.

The District 11 kids are polar opposites. The girl is 12 years old, with sad brown eyes. The boy is easily three times her size, and has a good three to four inches on me. He looks angry and strong. I know almost immediately that I need him in my alliance. If he is an enemy, he will be more difficult to defeat.

The District 12 reaping is laughable. Their one and only mentor, a middle-aged drunk, does a nose-dive off the stage. A 12-year-old blond girl with braids is reaped, but quickly replaced by an older brunette girl. She announces her name, and it is known that she volunteered to save her sister's life, sacrificing her own. That's stupid, in my opinion. If I were a weak little girl from Twelve, I wouldn't be putting my life on the line like that, especially if I were to volunteer for Minerva. The thought of that makes my blood boil. I plan on killing her personally, just because of my intolerance of stupidity. I tune back in to see a blonde, stocky boy get reaped, who will be no competition.

The reapings end, leaving me satisfied at my odds of survival. Magnus tells us to head back to our quarters to wait out the remainder of our ride, and maybe take a nap, if we'd like.

I decide to tell Clove of my plan to add the Eleven boy to our alliance, so I ask to walk her to her room. She declines, but I tell her that since our rooms are across the hall, she has no choice. She gives in, and we walk out of the Recap Room.

"So what do you think of our future allies?" I ask.

"Nothing too special, but they could be useful," she responds.

"Agreed. I think we should let the boy from 11 in our alliance also. We'd be undefeatable."

She ponders the thought for a few seconds, then agrees. We say bye and go to our rooms. As soon as I close the door, I let out a small sigh, then flop down on my bed.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note:** __Hello, lovely readers! This chapter was once boring and repetitive, when it should be full of so much emotion. I felt like I soiled it by having the exact same things in two POVs. So, after an hour of editing, this is the finished product: Chapter 4 - Version 2.0. I tried to keep the repetition to a minimum, but still allowing inner thoughts of both characters to be expressed at the most important times. I hope you all enjoy this new version of the chapter much, much better!_

_P.S.: If anyone is interested in reading the original, you can PM me and I can send it to you via DocX._

_**Disclaimer: **No, I'm not the genius Suzanne Collins. Therefore, I don't own The Hunger Games._

* * *

><p><strong>CLOVE<strong>

I lie on the floor in a ball sobbing. I figure I'm loud, but stop caring after the first gallon of tears.

I'm not even sure why I'm crying. My mind runs through today's events. Waking up late, rushing to the reaping, talking to Rai and Turia, hearing my name called, seeing Cato volunteer, saying goodbye to my family, having cameras bombard me, getting tossed on the train, throwing the knife, stuffing myself, watching the reapings. Most of it isn't exactly tear-jerking. Then what is it? What's making me cry?

Before I can answer myself, there's a knock at the door.

**CATO**

I'm sprawled out on my stomach on my bed, rubbing a corner of the comforter between my fingers, admiring how soft it is and how unfortunate District Two's proximity is to the Capitol, because I won't get the chance to actually sleep here.

My thoughts are interrupted by loud, rapid sobs coming from the room across the hall. I don't know what's making Clove cry like this. I never pictured her to be the crying type. I listen to the sobs and my mind flashes to my mother. All those times where I've heard her sob are resurfacing in my mind. Like when my father would hit me when I was young, she'd scream and cry for him to stop. Or when he'd threaten to leave her, take my brother and sister, and kill me, leaving her with nothing, she'd beg and plead for him to stay and not to touch a hair on my head. Or when I was in the Justice Building, and we were saying our goodbyes, she couldn't stop crying. Whatever's bothering Clove, I've got to know. I've got to help her.

I throw open the door to my room and knock on her door gently.

"Go away," I hear Clove gurgle.

"Don't tell me you're going to act like you weren't just crying your eyes out," I say to the door. I hear a sort of sigh come from Clove, and take that as my cue to open the door.

I see a ball of Clove, writhing on the ground, reaching for her comforter, and wiping her nose. There's a dark puddle on the ground where I assume she had her meltdown. Her hair near her face is plastered to her cheek by tears, and there's water stains going down the front of her shirt.

"Well, what do you want?" she demands, looking at my knees.

"I came to see what's wrong. Something's got to be bothering you to make you cry that much," I say as soothingly as I can.

She climbs up on the bed, and bunches herself back into a ball. She looks at the wet spot on the floor and sighs shakily.

"I'm really not sure, myself. I guess I've been holding it in all day. Did you cry at all?" Clove asks, finally meeting my eyes. Her gray-blue eyes are sparkling with tears. I sit down gingerly on her bed.

"No, but it's probably a matter of time," I say a little feebly. I'm not one to cry, and I don't think I have since I was a baby, even when I was getting beaten and threatened by my father, even when I said goodbye to my mother. I'm just acting a little wimpier to make Clove feel a little better about crying. "I'm pretty confident I'll win, but there's always that chance, you know? That chance that I'll fail. That I'll let my family, friends, and myself down. I'm sure I'll cry over that later," I say unsteadily. As I say the words, the thought of what I'm saying sinks in. What if I never see my mother again? What if I can't protect her from my father? I feel my eyes beginning to water at the thought. I blink away the tears, and regain the confidence that I'll win the Games.

"I think you're right, Cato. I think that's why I'm crying," Clove says a little more steadily. "Who exactly are you trying to win for, other than yourself?"

"My mother," I respond without even thinking about it. "She's the only person I've ever loved. She's the only person who really cares about me. Who are you trying to win for?"

"My little brother, mostly. He's my best friend and I care so much about him. I'm having a hard time being separated from him right now. I think the only thing that's keeping me together is seeing him when I get back," she answers, losing what little steadiness she had in her voice before.

"Wow," I say, a little amazed. The thought of seeing _my _little brother's face when I get back makes me feel homicidal. "I have a little brother, too. And a little sister. I can never see myself loving them. Especially not the way you seem to love your little brother."

**CLOVE**

"Why don't you love your siblings?" I ask. I may seem a little nosy, but I just want to keep our conversation going, because the moment Cato leaves, I'll feel all alone again. After all, he seemed to know exactly why I was crying even when I didn't know, myself.

"Because they're the reason my father stopped loving me. When they came along, my father poured what little love and care he has in him into them. I hate them both," he says bitterly. "The only reason I'm still sane is my mother. She's the only one in this world who loves me. I'd give anything just to see her face again." The tears building up in his eyes spill over. "I should probably get going," Cato mutters, trying to hide his tears, as he's starting to stand up. I grab his arm and pull him back down.

"No, it's okay, you can cry. You've already seen me cry and I don't care. I won't tell anyone," I assure him. "Besides, I'm the only one on this train who knows exactly how you feel. Please, stay. It's worse crying alone, believe me." My own tears return, just when I thought I cried every drop out.

Cato stays, and we both cry for another decade. I'm trying to think of ways to calm us down, and just when I'm about to give up, I think of something.

"What did you love most about home, other than your mother?" I ask.

He slows his sobbing and looks at me quizzically, then softens his expression. He reaches for my face, and brushes away the locks of hair stuck to my cheek. "I think I loved how friendly everyone was, whether or not I was friendly back to them. How about you?"

I bite my lip. I search my mind for an answer, but come up empty. Then I remember. "I always loved looking in the window of the fancy dress shop, even though I'd never be caught dead wearing anything on display. I would just picture some snob wearing one of the gaudy dresses and beating her senseless."

Cato laughs heartily, and our spirits finally rise. "I remember whenever I saw you around, you'd always be beating up someone for some reason for another. I always felt a sort of respect for you."

The thought of big, popular Cato admiring my fighting gets me a little flustered. I never would have thought he'd even bother noticing me. Then again, I also never would have thought he'd cry his eyes out in front of me, either.

"I think the time where I respected you most was when you gave my little sister a shiner last year," he chuckles. I rummage my mind for this memory, but can't find it.

"Why did I punch her?" I inquire.

"Oh, I think it was something about her bumping into you and you took it the wrong way. I've never gotten a chance to thank you properly. So, thanks," he says.

"You're welcome, I guess," I reply.

"Yeah, well, I can tell you don't really remember. You've probably beaten up so many people that it all blends together," he implies. I shrug. It's true, but it makes me seem careless. I decide to change the focus to him.

"Have you beaten people up?" I ask. I know the answer, but I'm curious to see how he'll respond.

"Yeah, but not nearly as many as you," he responds. "You can't tell me you've never seen me beat anyone up."

"Now that you mention it, I think I have," I admit.

"Huh, Clove Helios noticed me. How about that! I suppose I should feel honored," Cato grins, turning back into his usual haughty self.

"I think you should be honored. My noticing people is usually something special, considering I'm so careless that I beat people up left and right for no reason," I retort.

"I never said that!" laughs Cato.

"It was implied," I shoot back.

"Well you can't tell me it's not true!"

We share a laugh. What am I doing? Am I seriously becoming friends with the enemy?

"Why are we doing this?" Cato asks, echoing my thoughts.

"Doing what?" I ask back, even though I know the answer.

"Bonding, I guess. Telling each other our most personal details."

"Nothing to lose, I suppose. A minimum of one of us will be dead in a matter of weeks," I answer.

"I guess we should make the most of the time we have left, since I think we're becoming friends," Cato admits.

"It's pretty weird. You're actually being nice to me," I respond.

"What's even weirder is that you're being nice back."

I smile, realizing I'm usually not this nice to people other than Rhodon.

My thoughts are interrupted by the door opening.

"Oh!" Magnus gasps. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't know you two were both in here having a moment. I just popped in to let you know that we're approaching the Capitol!"

Cato and I look at each other, then walk over to the window. I have to squint to see our surroundings because, even at sunset, there are more colors in the Capitol than I've ever seen in my life.

As we go farther into the city, people turn towards our train and point and wave at us. Cato and I smile and wave back, which sends the crowd into frenzy.

As we pull into the station, Cato turns to me and asks, "You ready?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Let's just get this over with."

I tug the curtains shut, because even in the station, all the colors are making my eyes hurt. I turn to Cato and look up at him looking down at me. I wrap my arms around him, which seems to startle him.

"Thanks," I say with my cheek pressed in his shirt.

"For what?" Cato asks, confused.

I look up at him again. "For coming in here. For knowing why I was crying when I didn't even know, myself. For being nice. For being here for me and crying with me. For understanding."

He awkwardly puts his arms around me and pats my back slightly. "You're welcome, I guess."

I realize befriending Cato will have its advantages. He'll trust me, have my back, and maybe even protect me. Of course, it will just be that much harder for me to kill him, but I'll do it without blinking an eye when the time comes.

**CATO**

As the train approaches the station, I look down at Clove, who appears mesmerized. "You ready?" I ask.

The smile plastered on her face fades as she shrugs. "Let's just get this over with."

She draws the curtains and rubs her eyes slightly. She looks up at me, and flings her arms around me, burrowing the side of her head into my chest.

"Thanks," she breathes.

I'm confused. "For what?"

She meets my eyes and smiles. "For coming in here. For knowing why I was crying when I didn't even know, myself. For being nice. For being here for me and crying with me. For understanding."

She puts her head back on my chest and squeezes me tighter. I'm not sure what to do, so I sheepishly rest my arms around her and pat her back uncomfortably.

"You're welcome…I guess…" I say, glancing around.

I begin to worry. I hope I don't have to kill this girl personally. This tiny girl whose arms are securely wrapped around me, smiling. We've built up a little friendship this past half hour, as painful as the thought may be. All I can wish for is that someone comes along and kills her before I have to.


	5. Chapter 5

**CLOVE**

I blink open my eyes and find my skin being torn off by a woman with purple hair and blue skin. I scream at the pain on my legs and arms, but my hand moves to the back of my neck.

"What are you doing? Where am I?" I shout at the woman.

"I'm making you more beautiful than you already were!" she titters back. My eyes bug out of my head at the sight of this woman's face. Her lips are puffed, her eyes are bulging, and her cheeks are sunken in. She looks like…a fish. Her arms have blue scales on them, I see upon closer examination. I come to the conclusion that I'm in the Capitol. "I'm Aquatica. It's lovely to see you conscious, dear!"

"Why was I knocked out? How long was I out?" I sputter. My voice is raspy and my throat is sore.

"You don't remember?" asks a young man with green hair.

I shake my head.

"Well, from what I know, you got off your train, and went right into the Training Center without even acknowledging the cameras. That was strike one. Then you got into some sort of spat with your mentor. That was strike two. Finally, you threatened to kill your mentor before you went to bed. Just as you were about to lunge at her, a Peacekeeper shot you in the back of the neck with a blow dart, effectively knocking you out for twelve hours. You're quite the little aggressor, aren't you?" Aquatica glows.

"I don't remember any of that," I say, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Well, don't go around telling people. They're trying to keep it from the public. Classified information, you know," the green man says.

"How did I get here if I was unconscious?" I ask.

"Peacekeepers," a woman with red hair explains. "You're lucky. You were unconscious for most of your procedure."

"Procedure?" I'm terrified to hear what has been done to me while I was out of it.

"Oh, a foam scrub, nail repo, waxing, the works," the red-haired woman says. "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Dulcia, that's Cicero, and you've already met Aquatica."

I make a lame attempt at a smile.

"All that's left to do to you is rub you down with lotion. It'll soothe your skin where we waxed you," Cicero explains.

As they grease me up, I feel immediate relief on my raw skin. I realize I've been stark-naked, but I'm not sure for how long. Normally I'd be embarrassed to be seen like this, but I shrug it off since I'm sure these people have seen plenty of tributes before. They have me stand up, and they inspect me.

"You're gorgeous, dear! I think you're ready for Tertia!" Aquatica squeals.

The three flutter out of the room and I'm left there alone. I smell something delightful coming from my head, and realize it's my hair. I clutch a handful and bring it to my nose. My eyes close and roll to the back of my head in bliss.

The door opens, and I release the tresses of hair. A woman, who looks hideously surgically altered, walks in. She has light, grayish-blue hair that extends upward from her head, adding about 4 inches to her short stature. She has maroon skin adorned with silver tattoos. She blinks, and her eyelids are covered with a drawing of an eye on each lid.

"Hello, Clove. I am your stylist, Tertia. It will be a pleasure to be working with you," she coos in her high-pitched Capitol accent. "Now don't move a muscle. I want to see just how beautiful I can make you."

I stand still and stare at the wall across from me. She encircles me, and with every poke and prod, it's just one more knife I dream of stabbing in her.

"You're not ugly. Not stunning either, but not the worst tribute I've seen. This is my fortieth year here as a stylist, believe it or not," Tertia beams. "Your eyes are something to envy. People around here get surgery to get their eyes that color."

I try to smile again, but I don't put much effort into it.

"Your hair looks good. We'll leave that as-is," Tertia decides. "Here, Clove, put this robe on and follow me."

I obey, and I'm led into a room with a table filled with more food than I can name.

"Here's a plate. Take what you want and have a seat with me," Tertia orders.

It's all I can do not to take the whole table over to Tertia, but after how stuffed I was yesterday, I decide against it. I take my pickings and walk to a small table with two chairs, one of which is occupied by Tertia.

"So, Clove, I've done my research and found out that your father was once Head Peacekeeper of your District!" Tertia grins.

My stomach drops. My father does not bring up his past, and I'm sure there's a reason. If Tertia tells me about my father's Peacekeeping, I might stab her in the throat with the knife that is being clutched tighter and tighter in my hand.

"So I was thinking, why not embrace your heritage? Your father was a well-respected man. I'm sure he still is. So, let's suit you up in a Peacekeeper uniform!" Tertia gushes.

I stand up and walk out of the room, only to be brought back by actual Peacekeepers. They sit me back down, and threaten to execute me and bring in a new District 2 female tribute if I don't learn some self-control. I doubt they'd actually be allowed to do this, but I stay seated, and they back off.

"I don't understand why you're upset. Dressing as a Peacekeeper is an honor. Your District partner will be wearing a much less-flattering stonecutter uniform."

Cato in a stonecutter uniform? I almost laugh at the thought.

"To be honest, it doesn't matter what you want, anyway. This uniform has been in production for you since you were reaped yesterday. I stayed up all night making sure everything was precise."

I don't look up from my food, but glare anyway. How dare she make me a Peacekeeper! My father had avoided this exact thing my whole life: having me dressed as a Peacekeeper. My eyes well up at the thought of my father's shouts of contempt when he sees me on the television back home.

"Why aren't you speaking? You haven't spoken to me at all. I heard you were quite outspoken last night. How stupid of you to wear yourself out so soon. This is a big evening for both of us, you know! If you don't look good, you'll get no sponsors! Think about that," Tertia cries, exasperated. "Besides, it won't be the Peacekeeper uniform that you know. It will be an exact replica of your father's."

I look up at her, hatred pumping through my veins. "Why would you do that?" These are the first words I've uttered to her since I met her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why would you make me a Peacekeeper, if only for a few hours?"

"Why, Clove, this is an honor," Tertia breathes, offended.

"Well, not to me. I'd rather be thrown in front of the country naked!" I snarl.

"As much as I'd love to do that just to spite you, I'm afraid I must put you in the Peacekeeper's uniform. President's orders," she beams.

A few hours later, after ten pounds of makeup have been applied to my face, I look stunning. My hair has been pulled neatly back into a low ponytail. And, of course, I'm donning my Peacekeeper uniform. It's not the one I'm used to, that's for sure. Instead of the baggy, plain white uniforms I usually see Peacekeepers wearing, I'm in a form-fitting off-white uniform with grayish-blue accents. The same color as Tertia's hair. Of course. I'm wearing shiny matching boots that crawl almost to my knee. There's a helmet too, but I'm supposed to have that propped under my arm, resting on my hip. I can't imagine my father wearing this.

Almost reading my thoughts, Tertia says, "Your father's uniform wasn't quite like this, of course. But it's the same color scheme and basic design. Your outfit is just a little more…vamped up. More intimidating. Just keep that scowl on your face and it will make it all the better."

"So you're telling me this blue is the same color as your hair by accident?" I sneer.

"Actually, I dyed my hair to complement the uniform. If you notice, it also complements your eyes well. Just as it did your father's eyes."

I look in the mirror. Tertia's right. The blue in the uniform matches my eyes exactly. My father has the same color eyes. I'll bet he looked stunning in his uniform, too.

"Did my father look good?" I ask.

"See for yourself," she replies, pulling a picture out of her pocket. She hands it to me.

I immediately look at his eyes. My father's eyes complement this uniform so well. I also notice he's propping his helmet under his arm. This is no identification photo. This is a photo of honor.

I look up at Tertia. "I'm supposed to look exactly like my father when I go out there, aren't I?"

She nods.

I look under the picture, and read, "_Youngest Head Peacekeeper in the history of Panem, Lucius Helios, age 19, pauses for a picture_."

"He was the youngest Head Peacekeeper in history?" I ask, confused.

"Yes. He still could be a great Peacekeeper, but retired after his required 20 years of service to marry your mother. I'm surprised you didn't know, being his daughter."

"He doesn't like to talk about it. I never questioned it," I say tightly.

Tertia and I board an elevator to the bottom level of the Training Center, where I spot Cato almost immediately. He's the only tribute here besides me, and looks beyond angry. He's dressed in a dark brown tattered shirt, dirty tan overalls, black working boots, and a safety helmet.

"I was going to be given tools, but when my stylist saw how I reacted to this outfit, she decided against it," Cato grumbles to me. "Looks like you got the better outfit. What are you supposed to be, anyway?"

"A Peacekeeper. But not just any Peacekeeper. I'm supposed to be my father," I clarify.

"Well, aren't you lucky," Cato mutters.

"Oh, not in the least. I'd rather be wearing what you have on. Want to trade?"

"I'd love to! It's a shame we're not the same size," Cato complains sarcastically. "Why do you want to trade, anyway? Not only are you honoring your father, you look intimidating."

"Because my father doesn't like to talk about his days as a Peacekeeper. It's an unspoken rule in my house."

"Wow, little miss hot-head obeying a rule? This is a first!" Cato howls.

"I'll break a rule right now and kill you," I growl back. "And what do you mean, 'little miss hot-head?'"

"Well, after last night, I think you've gained the title," Cato snickers.

"What exactly happened last night?" I ask.

"You don't remember?"

I shake my head no.

"No one told you?"

"Well, my prep team tried to tell me, but they didn't get into details. I only woke up this morning, and the last thing I remember was being in my room on the train hugging you," I explain. "I was hoping you knew what I did to get a dart shot in the back of my neck."

"I was told not to tell you," Cato grins. "Classified information."

I glare at him, ready to retort, when I notice that the rest of the tributes arrived, and just like that, we're being loaded onto our chariot by our stylists. Tertia adjusts the helmet under my arm.

"Hate the audience like you hated me when I told you that you'd be wearing this. Glare. Scowl. Look vicious," Tertia commands. She and Cato's stylist hop off the chariot, leaving Cato and me alone.

"You ready?" Cato asks me.

"Let's just get this over with."

Our chariot pulls out of the Remake Center, and the crowd roars. I glare and scowl, just as I was told. I hear my name being called from all over as flowers pound my body from all directions.

We reach the City Circle, and pull in to our spot in front of the president's mansion. I turn around, just in time to see the District Twelve tributes on fire. I see them smiling, holding hands, catching flowers from the crowd. They look…gorgeous. Stunning. Especially the girl. I add this moment to the list of things to hate her for. I'm definitely killing her.

The rest of the chariots take their spots, and President Snow makes his speech. The chariots pull out, and I catch myself on the big screen. I look great, but not as good as the Twelves. I try not to fume, and calm myself down by thinking of gruesome ways to kill the girl.

We pull into the Training Center, and are helped off our chariots by our prep teams. I toss my helmet to Tertia, and turn around to see the District 12 fireballs getting extinguished. I nudge Cato, and he follows my gaze.

"They stole the show. They'll pay for it," he growls.

"I'll let you kill the boy if you let me kill the girl," I tell him.

"We'll see," Cato says as he turns around and starts walking towards the elevator, kicking his boots off on the way there, and pulling the straps of his overalls off as the doors close.

**CATO**

Clove and I step off the train, and the cameras are immediately shoved in our faces. Reporters start asking questions.

"How does it feel to be here?" "Did you enjoy the train ride?" "Have you seen the reapings?" "Who, in your opinion, is the most intimidating tribute?" "What is your weapon of choice?"

Clove storms through the cameras and reporters and stomps right into the Training Center.

"Cato, is Clove short-fused?" a reporter asks, shoving a microphone at my mouth.

"No, she's very pleasant and friendly," I say, a little annoyed as well.

"Very funny! Do you consider her a contender?"

"Yes, of course. I've seen what she can do. The other tributes should be afraid."

"Are you saying she's a threat?"

"To others, yes. To me, no. I could snap her in half in the blink of an eye."

"Do you believe you're going to win this year's Games?"

"Why else would I have volunteered?"

I leave the cameras behind, and walk into the Training Center. There's a short woman in a white uniform with shoulder-length blond hair, who motions for me to follow her. We step onto an elevator, and ride up to the second floor of the building in silence. I'm trying to think of the term for this woman. It comes to me: _Avox_. We learned in school that they are people who have done something to betray the Capitol, and in turn, their tongues are chopped off and they're made servants.

The woman leads me down the hall, and opens a door. I walk through the door to find that this room is even fancier than my room on the train, and probably twice the size. I walk over to the huge bed and flop down on the maroon comforter, and bury my head in the surplus of pillows. They smell so clean that I inhale the scent until I almost suffocate. I surface, and hear music playing. It's a nice tune, with a good voice singing. It's an old song, at least a couple hundred years. I listen to the lyrics:

_'Cause there'll be no sunlight  
>If I lose you, baby<br>There'll be no clear skies  
>If I lose you, baby<br>Just like the clouds  
>My eyes will do the same, if you walk away<br>Everyday it will rain, rain, rain._

_Oh, don't just say goodbye,  
>Don't just say goodbye<br>I'll pick up these broken pieces 'til I'm bleeding  
>If that'll make it right<em>

_'Cause there'll be no sunlight  
>If I lose you, baby<br>There'll be no clear skies  
>If I lose you, baby<br>Just like the clouds  
>My eyes will do the same, if you walk away<br>Everyday it will rain, rain, rain_

The song ends, and another song begins, but this one has no lyrics, just a soothing tune. They must have music playing from a speaker I spot in the corner of the room. I lay there for a little while longer, and then decide to get a shower.

I open the door to what I assume is the bathroom, and find I'm correct. This bathroom has far exceeded my expectations of what a nice bathroom would look like. It's at least three times the size of our bathroom back home.

I undress and hop in the shower, and am greeted with a menagerie of buttons. I set the water temperature, soap, shampoo, and tons of other things. I finish, and walk over to my closet. I select a gray t-shirt and navy blue cotton pants. I also put on a pair of white socks, which are softer than any pair of socks I've ever worn.

I order some food called "ribs," and lie down on my bed and savor every bite. There's a knock at the door, and I'm irritated.

"Come in," I call.

Antonius walks in, and sits on a chair next to my bed.

"Enjoying the food?" he asks.

"No, it's disgusting," I say as I lick sauce off my fingers.

"Well, I came in here to talk to you about tomorrow. Tomorrow you'll meet your prep team and stylist, who will make you attractive for the chariot ride through the city. Do what they tell you, don't object to anything. Don't moan and groan over makeup or your outfit. It'll be off as soon as the parade's over," he orders.

"Maybe," I answer, collecting the rest of the sauce off my plate with my finger.

"I'd listen to me if I were you, kid. I know how to survive these Games," Antonius warns.

"Is that why no one you've mentored has made it back? Because they've listened to you?" I insist.

"Quite the opposite. Just like you, they thought they knew all there was to know about the Games. And where are they now?" he counters.

We sit there in silence for a few minutes, and I notice the music must have stopped at some point during our exchange. The silence is broken up by shouting across the hall.

"How dare you!" a woman screams.

"I mean it! Get out of here! You don't know anything! You're despicable!" I recognize these shouts to be Clove's.

I hop off the bed and open the door, with Antonius walking towards the door behind me. Through the open doorway across the hall, I see Enobaria snarling at Clove.

"You're an ungrateful little brat! I can make or break you! I decide whether or not you get sponsors! You should be treating me better than this!" Enobaria hisses.

"Then you treat _me_ better! You're acting like I'm some kind of idiot!" Clove cries.

"Because you _are_!" Enobaria sneers back.

"I will kill you!" Clove threatens.

"Go ahead, try me!"

Clove lunges at Enobaria, effectively tackling her to the ground, and pins her to the ground. Clove grabs Enobaria's throat, and raps her head on the ground. Enobaria starts to choke.

Antonius and I run across the hall, and I pull Clove off of Enobaria, while Antonius scoops Enobaria up and restrains her. Clove wiggles out of my grasp and runs at Enobaria. Fists go flying, and in seconds, at least ten Peacekeepers swarm into the room. One shoots a blow dart right into the back of Clove's neck, and another into Enobaria's right thigh. They both drop to the ground.

"What's in those darts?" I yell at the Peacekeeper who shot them. He doesn't answer. Instead, he and his crew march out of the room and back down the hall.

Antonius walks over to Clove and plucks the dart out of her neck. "It's orange. They'll be out for about 12 hours."

I shrug, and walk out of the room.

"Wait!" Antonius calls. I turn around to see his arms under Clove's armpits, trying to sit her upright. "Help me get Clove into bed, and Enobaria to her quarters."

I scoop Clove up and lay her on the bed. I walk back to Enobaria, and I take her feet, with Antonius taking her arms. We carry her down the hall and around the corner, into her room and onto her bed.

Antonius thanks me, and goes into his room across from Enobaria's. Before he closes the door, he says, "Don't tell either one of them about their little argument. Chances are, they won't remember any of it. It'll be easier for everyone if they don't know."

As I head back to my room, I contemplate telling Clove. If I tell her, she'll probably be mad that the fight was broken up by a blow dart, and the fight might even resume, causing the whole thing to happen all over again. I decide to keep the fight a secret. I dive onto my bed and bury myself under the covers. I fall asleep almost immediately.

I wake up to Magnus tittering, "Wake up, wake up! We have a big day ahead of us!"

I get out of bed and walk towards the closet.

"Oh, don't worry about changing! Your prep team will just have you undress anyway!" Magnus explains. "Follow me!"

I slump after him, to the elevator, and onto an underground level of the building. He leads me down the hall to a room marked 2B. I'm greeted by three rainbow-colored freaks.

"Hi, Cato! We're your prep team!" a tiny woman with mint-colored hair squeaks. "I'm Palantina!"

"And I'm Remus!" a man with lavender hair greets.

"And I'm Septimus!" a taller man with bright yellow hair beams.

Soon enough, these strangers bathe me and wax every bit of hair off my face other than my eyelashes and most of my eyebrows.

"You have it easy, _trust me_. The female tributes have _so _much more to endure! More waxing, more makeup, more fiddling with hair," Palantina gushes as she rips more hair off my cheek.

"Last year, we worked with a particularly hairy girl from District 10. Ugh! It was sickening. And she whined about the waxing, too. So awful," Septimus complains.

The waxing is done, and Remus is rubbing a lotion on my face to soothe the irritated skin. They have me stand up, and they circle around me.

"Well, you're looking gorgeous! We're going to go get your stylist!" coos Palantina. The team skids out of the room, and I'm left there standing in the buff.

The door opens, and a tall woman with dark pink hair and purple skin walks over to me.

"Hello, Cato. I'm Fausta, your stylist," she smiles. "Let's see what I was given to work with," she mumbles under her breath. She inspects me, feeling my muscles, poking my back, tilting my head. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Wonderful build, great face, exceptional hair. I'm happy with this."

I wrinkle my forehead.

"Don't do that. Takes away from the beauty," she explains. "Anyway, this year, I have decided to exploit your District's specialty: stonecutting! I hope you like brown!"

I don't like brown, actually. I like blue. I don't say this, though. Instead, I say, "But you say I have a wonderful build and exceptional hair. Wouldn't it just be covered up and put to waste in a baggy stonecutter uniform?"

"That's the point, dear. We want the other tributes to underestimate you. Then in the arena, they'll be shocked!" she glows.

"I'm not here to be underestimated. I'm here to kill everyone in that arena. I don't want them to misjudge me. I want them to know exactly how brutal I really am," I argue.

"I don't care. This is my approach, and it's not up to you. Do you think past tributes who've been presented to the country without a stitch of clothing wanted to go out there like that? You're just lucky I don't have you do the same," Fausta retorts.

"I'd rather!" I yell.

"Look, just calm down. You can make your judgment on the outfit when you actually see it. It's really not bad. I think it will flatter you. Don't worry," she eases.

Hours later, I'm in the most unflattering outfit I've ever seen. I've got on a brown shirt, baggy tan overalls, black work boots, and a safety helmet. Remus pulls a mirror in front of me, and I lash out.

"I look disgusting! How am I ever supposed to get sponsors? No one will be able to take me seriously in this! I look like scum! Like some lowlife from the slums of District 2! How could you do this to me?"

"Septimus, get the weapons out of here. I don't want any hazards to our health," Fausta orders. Septimus obeys, carrying several stonecutting tools out the door. Fausta turns to me. "Now, Cato, please calm down. I know very well what I'm doing. You'll just have to trust me."

"Trust you? I've learned a _long_ time ago to trust no one! I look revolting. There's no way anything good will come out of this!" I shout.

"Believe what you will. Come on, now. If we leave now, we'll be the first ones there. Let's go," she replies calmly.

I follow Fausta, and we enter the elevator. I restrain myself from strangling her, and it's difficult, because the urge to do so is very strong. We travel to the bottom level of the Training Center. As soon as we step out of the elevator, I walk far away from Fausta. I look around, and see the twelve chariots. I walk towards the front of the pack, and find the one with a fancy number 2 on the side. I turn back towards the elevator, and see Clove and her stylist hop off. Clove and I make eye contact, and I can see she's holding back laughter, which gets me even angrier.

As Clove walks toward me, I have to admit, she looks amazing. Her hair is pulled back, showing off her face, especially her piercing eyes. She's in a tight off-white uniform with steely blue accents that match her eyes perfectly. The matching helmet under her arm makes her appear very threatening, like she's ready to get right down to business and kill everyone right here, right now.

I feel a little defensive that I look so unthreatening compared to her, so I grumble, "I was going to be given tools, but when my stylist saw how I reacted to this outfit, she decided against it."

Clove smirks.

"Looks like you got the better outfit. What are you supposed to be, anyway?" I ask angrily.

"A Peacekeeper. But not just any Peacekeeper. I'm supposed to be my father," she explains.

"Well, aren't you lucky," I comment resentfully.

"Oh, not in the least. I'd rather be wearing what you have on. Want to trade?"

To be honest, I'm shocked. She's so ungrateful! Her outfit will send everyone looking at her into fear. "I'd love to! It's a shame we're not the same size."

Clove looks irritated, so I ask what's been on my mind. "Why do you want to trade, anyway? Not only are you honoring your father, you look intimidating."

"Because my father doesn't like to talk about his days as a Peacekeeper. It's an unspoken rule in my house," she replies stoically.

"Wow, little miss hot-head obeying a rule? This is a first!"

"I'll break a rule right now and kill you," Clove snarls. "And what do you mean, 'little miss hot-head?'"

"Well, after last night, I think you've gained the title," I scoff.

"What exactly happened last night?" she asks, genuinely confused.

"You don't remember?"

She shakes her head.

"No one told you?"

"Well, my prep team tried to tell me, but they didn't get into details. I only woke up this morning, and the last thing I remember was being in my room on the train hugging you," she says. "I was hoping you knew what I did to get a dart shot in the back of my neck."

"I was told not to tell you," I reply. "Classified information."

She smolders, but before she can comment back, we're being tossed onto the chariot. Fausta is fussing over "last-minute details," and I ball my hands up at my sides, disabling myself from enclosing her neck in my hands.

"I want you to keep a straight face. Don't look mad, sad, happy, anything. Look vacant. Like you're not even real. Good luck!" Fausta says as she leaps off the chariot.

I turn to Clove. "You ready?"

She shrugs. "Let's just get this over with."

I face forward again, and can't help but smile a little at our usual exchange.

Before I know it, our chariot exits the Training Center, and glides through the streets of the Capitol. I smile arrogantly at the crowd, ignoring Fausta's orders. I hear the crowd chanting my name, and get lost in the pride of it all.

We pull around the City Circle and up to the president's mansion, and as soon as our chariot reaches a stop, I turn around. I see immediately, at the back of the parade, the District 12 losers are no longer losers. They're the stars of the show. They're…they're glowing? No, they're on fire. They're holding hands, blowing kisses to the crowd, and genuinely smiling. I get incredibly envious, and vow to kill them both.

As soon as the rest of the chariots take their places, President Snow makes his usual speech, but I don't listen. I try to think of the most sinister way possible to kill the Twelves.

We parade around the City Circle once more, and head back to the Training Center. Our prep teams help Clove and me off our chariot. Clove nudges me with her elbow. I look at her, and see her eyes focused on the Twelves, whose flames are being put out by their stylists.

"They stole the show. They'll pay for it," I snarl.

"I'll let you kill the boy if you let me kill the girl," Clove says, trying to make some kind of a deal.

"We'll see," I answer, not in the mood. I turn around and stomp towards the elevator. I can't tolerate being seen in this hideous outfit anymore. I kick my boots off as I walk, and yank the straps of my overalls down as the doors close, finally leaving me alone.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Note from the author:** __Thank you all for reading my story so far. I hope you're enjoying it! I'm starting off this chapter with a note because this chapter is all Clove's POV. Since Cato's POV this chapter would just be more of the same, I figured to just leave it at Clove, and pick up with both of their POVs next chapter. Enjoy! :)_

* * *

><p><strong>CLOVE<strong>

I take a step towards the elevator, but a hand around my arm yanks me backwards.

"Clove, dear, you were spectacular! You looked so fierce and aggressive! Bravo!" Magnus praises.

"Thanks," I reply vacantly, eyes focused on the elevator. I want to get this uniform off as soon as possible. I take a step for the elevator once more, but get stopped again.

"Oh, Clove, you made me a very happy stylist! You were _perfect_! We're getting so many congratulations! You're in for a truckload of sponsors, I can tell!" Tertia glows.

"Good," I say dismissively. I finally take two steps towards the elevator without anyone stopping me. I take two more steps. And another. And three more. I make it to the elevator without anyone pulling me back.

The doors open, and I step in. I turn around to see Magnus boarding as well.

"Clove, that uniform is stunning. I hear it was designed in honor of your father. You must be so proud!" Magnus goes on and on, but finally stops when he senses my rage. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I mumble as I get off the elevator and walk down the hall. Magnus follows me.

"Well…alright. Just know I'm here to talk if you need me!"

I walk into my room and close the door quickly behind me. I tear off the uniform, undo my ponytail, and hop into the shower to wash the makeup off as soon as possible. The sooner I can remove tonight from my mind, the better.

I step in the shower and see dozens of buttons, and get a flashback. I remember, about ten years ago, my family came to the Capitol in honor of my father's ten-year anniversary of his retirement as Head Peacekeeper. It was a bright Sunday in early autumn. A ceremony was held in the City Circle, where all living retired Head Peacekeepers gathered in the audience. President Snow honored him with a small speech and a medal. Our whole family stayed in a beautiful hotel, with a bathroom just like this one. I remember, there was no bathtub, and being only six years old, I'd never taken a shower before. My mother set the shower to the gentlest settings, and the most warm-smelling soaps and shampoos, and a perfect temperature. It was my favorite experience during our visit. I'd always ask to come back to the Capitol, but my father would chuckle and tell me that our visit was a once in a lifetime experience. I would tell myself that no matter what I did, before I died, I'd visit the Capitol and set the shower the exact same way.

I smile at the memory, and instantly remember the exact settings my mother used, and punch all the correct buttons. Before I know it, I'm enveloped in nostalgia. The warmth, the smells, the water pressure, _everything_ reminds me of that wonderful experience ten years ago. I let all my worries subside, and frolic in the present. This moment, this amazing moment, is sheer bliss. Everything I've been through, everything I'll go through, all of it is worth this one moment.

I soak in the joy of it all for what feels like a happy, peaceful eternity, when the water shuts off abruptly. I look up at a small screen above the buttons. It reads, "_Maximum daily water allowance reached_." I sigh, and turn to get out of the shower. I look around for towels, but don't find any. I step out of the shower and onto a mat, which immediately dries my body. Across from me is a strange-looking box. I put my hand on it, and my hair stands on end for about two seconds, then floats back down, perfectly dry.

I walk out of the bathroom and over to the closet. I try to open the glass door, but it's no use. To my right, there's a small screen that reads, "_Touch here for clothing preferences_." I tap the screen with my index finger, and I'm asked to select a shirt color. I pick dark purple. Next is pants, which has less options, but I choose my usual black, anyway. The final option is shoe color, and I choose black to match the pants. The closet door flies open, and all the purple shirts, black pants, and black shoes are on display. I select a dark purple tunic, soft black pants, and fancy black shoes with a bit of a heel, since I'm sure I'll be called to dinner soon.

Almost on cue, Magnus is knocking at my door, calling me for dinner. I follow him down the hall, around the corner, down the hall, around another corner. He opens the door to the dining room and I see Antonius, Enobaria, Tertia, and Cato's stylist seated at the table. I sit next to Cato's stylist, who introduces herself to me as Fausta. Across from me is Antonius. He alternates between staring at me and Enobaria, who's sitting next to him. It's making me quite uncomfortable, but it must be a result of whatever happened last night.

Magnus shifts awkwardly. "I better check back up on Cato. He said he'd meet me here, but I guess he's running late." He exits the room, a little flustered.

Enobaria catches Antonius staring at her. "Tony, what are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing, just…nothing," Antonius says, sipping a glass of water.

"It's obviously something, but whatever," Enobaria comments. "So, Clove, how about that get-up you had on earlier? Pretty nice. When I was in the Games, I had to wear something like what Cato had on. I was so jealous when I saw how fierce you looked."

Tertia, who is seated on the other side of Antonius, beams. "She looked spectacular. Really. I bet your father was proud when he saw you."

I scoff. "Probably not. He probably had a heart attack at the sight of me. My whole life, he did everything he could to keep me from becoming a Peacekeeper. Tonight, his worst nightmare came true."

Tertia looks down at her hands in her lap. "I didn't want you to go out there like that, you know. I knew your father never wanted you to be a Peacekeeper, but I had no choice. President Snow ordered you to be in an old Peacekeeper uniform. He let the details to me, so I tried to do as much to help you as possible by altering it, but anyone over the age of 30 would remember the old Peacekeeper uniforms and recognize it immediately. I'm really sorry, Clove."

I feel myself gaping. I pick my jaw up off the floor. "Wow. Thank you, Tertia. Really, thanks. If you're telling the truth, I really appreciate it."

An awkward silence follows. It's finally broken up by the door opening up again.

"I am sorry I have inconvenienced you with my tardiness," Cato says robotically.

"Say it like you mean it," Magnus orders.

"No. Don't push it," Cato warns, and plops down in the seat next to me. I look at him, and see he's wearing a formal white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a silky red tie. I have to admit, he looks good. Really good. I actually stare at him for a moment, but he doesn't even seem to notice. Thankfully Enobaria's low cackle shakes me out of my trance.

"Nice tie," I say.

"I didn't want to wear it. Magnus told me that this was 'a formal event, not a day in the quarry,'" Cato replies, impersonating Magnus almost perfectly. This gets a laugh out of everyone except Magnus and the stylists.

"Now, Cato, I think you look very handsome," Fausta insists.

"You also thought I looked good in that stonecutter uniform," Cato points out.

"Cato, don't be so rude! Have you no manners?" Magnus shouts.

"Nope," he replies, grabbing a handful of mashed potatoes. He makes smacking noises as he gobbles the food from his hand.

Magnus rubs his temples. "I hope you've realized that we waited for you to get here before we began to eat. You're not returning the favor."

"I've realized. I've also realized I really don't care," Cato retorts.

"Well then, let's eat," Magnus sighs.

As usual, the food is exquisite. I dig into some clams, which is actually considered to be okay to eat with your hands, unlike the potatoes. I'm finishing off my plateful when one of the Avoxes buzzing around offers Cato and me some wine. Cato snatches a glass of red wine and gulps it down, but manages to dribble a few drops on his shirt. I hesitantly take a glass.

"Don't be so scared, dear. It's really good," Cato tells me as he grabs two more glasses.

I take a sip. At first, it's bitter, but eventually tastes good enough. I continue with my small sips while Cato guzzles down three more glasses. At this point, he's beginning to get pretty tipsy. By the time everyone's finished eating, he's totally drunk.

We're supposed to watch a recap of the opening ceremonies, but dealing with Cato's intoxication seems to be more of a priority.

"Did no one realize he drank this much?" Magnus yelps. "Cato won't be able to watch the recap of himself without killing at least one of us. Someone escort him back to his room. Clove, you go ahead."

"Me?" I ask, totally confused. "Why me?"

"You seem to have a calming effect on him," Magnus explains. I narrow my eyebrows in puzzlement, and he sighs. "At the very least, he seems to hate you the least out of all of us."

I realize he's probably right about that last point. Magnus and Antonius stand Cato up, and prop him on my shoulder. I almost collapse under Cato's weight, but he realizes before we fall and takes most of his weight off me, but still drapes his arm around my shoulder.

Cato belches, and I cringe. "What, you don't find that too attractive, dear? I'm sorry. I should be more polite to the pretty little lady."

"Yes, you should be," I reply.

We walk out the door and down the hall.

"Where are you taking me?" Cato asks, grinning.

"To your room."

"Ooh. I like the sound of this," Cato clucks. He begins taking his tie off.

"No, no, no. You're going straight to bed. Alone," I tell him.

"Alright, but if you change your mind I'll be there," Cato winks.

"Alright, Cato," I say, trying to appease him. I open the door to his room. "We're here now. Just lay down in bed, and I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"I don't want to wait until tomorrow to see you. I want to see you right now," Cato murmurs. He encloses me in his arms and kisses me. All I taste is red wine, but my chest feels like there's sparks about to ignite. I'm unfamiliar with this feeling, but I think it's a mix of anger and annoyance at him trying to take advantage of me. I put my hands on his chest and pull away.

"Cato, stop. You're drunk. You don't know what you're doing," I tell him sternly.

"How do you know? I want this, and I can tell you do, too," he slurs. "I've wanted this since we were on the train crying together. I wanted this when I saw you in that Peacekeeper uniform earlier. I want this now, and I can finally have it."

I stand there gaping at him. He's obviously drunk, but are the things he's saying true?

"Cato…" I start, but don't get to finish. Cato brings me in for another kiss, but this one is longer. I pull away again. It doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel real. It's like there's a hazy fog in Cato's eyes that's beginning to invade my vision. "Cato, stop. Please. If you really feel this way, you can try this when you're sober. But right now, you need to go to bed and sleep this off. Okay?"

Cato sighs. "If that's really what you want, then okay. I'll go to bed. I just thought maybe you wanted this, too. Especially the way you were looking at me at dinner."

I feel a blush dance across my cheeks. I never even thought of ever kissing Cato. He was always just eye candy. But even those kisses a moment ago don't really count for anything, since Cato's not in control of his actions at the moment.

"Goodnight, Clove," he whispers, and kisses me on the forehead. He closes the door, and I stand there for a moment, replaying the past five minutes in my head before turning around and going back to the dining room.

I take a slow walk, and almost run into Magnus as I round the second corner.

"Oh! Clove! There you are! I was just coming to get you. What took so long?" Magnus sputters.

"Oh, you know Cato. He didn't really want to cooperate with me, but he eventually went to bed," I explain vaguely.

"Alright, well come on, then. We're already late to watch the recaps of the opening ceremonies!"

We go back into the dining room, and walk through a door to a small sitting room where a large television is mounted on the wall, and most of the floor space is taken up by two couches. Enobaria, Fausta, and Antonius are occupying one couch, leaving me to sit with Tertia and Magnus on the other.

As soon as I sit down, the television turns on. I watch the District One tributes apathetically, but jerk back to life when I see myself. I look so deadly, so threatening, so… so much like my father. I look exactly like he did in that picture. I understand why my hair was pulled back off my face, and why the helmet was positioned so carefully. I'm the spitting image of my father.

Suddenly, I'm back in my house, in the living room, sitting on the couch with my parents, watching myself exit the Training Center on that chariot. My father is cursing the television; my mother is lowly weeping, just as she did when I left.

I blink, and I'm back in the Capitol, in the Training Center, on the second floor, in the sitting room, on a couch with Magnus and Tertia. I bury my face in my hands. Magnus and Tertia rub my back soothingly, murmuring comforting things to me. I don't say anything, but the pain in my chest speaks volumes.

I take my face out of my hands, and I see the Capitol seal on the screen. I missed the rest of the tributes, but it's probably for the best.

"You alright, kid?" Enobaria asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say unsteadily.

"Good. Let's talk about training. It'll get your mind off things," Enobaria says, standing up. "Let's take a walk to our rooms. Come on."

I get off the couch and follow her into the hallway.

"I didn't want Antonius to hear anything about your training approach, in case he tells Cato. He and I have a bet going every year on whose tribute will make it the farthest. Last year, his tribute made it farther. I don't want to tell you what I had to do. But this year, the loser has to do the other's laundry for two months," Enobaria explains, trying to lighten the mood.

I nod to show I was listening, but am still too shaken up to speak.

"Anyway, let's get down to business. So, I already know your skill is knife throwing. But in order to survive, you'll need to learn some other skills. I suggest knot-tying, edible plants, and maybe even camouflage. They'll all be of great use if you're serious about winning this."

"What good will that do me?" I ask. "Shouldn't I try to train with a secondary weapon or something?"

"That's important, too. But survival is key. How are you going to survive if you can't tell an edible plant from a poison one?" Enobaria questions.

"Well, I don't know. I think I'd rather stick to weapons," I say.

"Whatever. It's your funeral," Enobaria shrugs. We approach her room, and she opens the door without saying another word.

I turn the corner onto Cato's and my hallway. I hear snoring coming from Cato's room, so I assume he's out cold. He's in for a massive hangover tomorrow morning. I wonder how that will affect his training.

I open the door to my room and walk straight for the closet. This is my first night in the Capitol that I'm conscious of, meaning it's my first opportunity to see the luxurious pajamas at my disposal. I type in the according fabrics and styles I want on the screen, and once again the glass door slides open, leaving me with dozens of options. I select a soft beige nightgown decorated with little pink polka dots, and soft purple socks.

I dive into bed under the covers and think about this past day. The preparations, the Peacekeeper uniform, the chariot ride, the shower, the dinner, the kiss, the recap, the talk with Enobaria. It all flashes before my eyes before I can stop it. As soon as the last scene finishes playing through my mind, I fall into a deep sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**CLOVE**

After being strangled by strange dreams that won't allow me to wake up on my own, Enobaria successfully wakes me up.

"Clove, you've got to wake up!" she yells as she violently shakes me awake. "Breakfast is in 20 minutes and you've got to look better than this!"

I toss the covers off me and stumble out of bed. Enobaria drifts over to the door.

"I'll be in the dining room if you need me," she calls over her shoulder.

I hear the door close, and go into the bathroom. I get a quick shower, pull my hair back into a ponytail similar to the one I wore yesterday, brush my teeth, and inattentively throw on some clothes. I make it to the dining room and find I'm the last to arrive.

"Well, Clove, at least you're not late," Magnus says tiredly, before walking out the door.

"Morning to you, too," I retort.

I see Enobaria and Antonius serving themselves at a huge table with no less than 20 different dishes. I grab a plate, take a little of everything, and sit down in my seat from last night. Cato's in his seat, I realize, but it seems that he's nursing his hangover. His head is buried in his arms on the table and I hear a slight moan.

Antonius sits down. He motions to an Avox. "Bring some ambidrenosine," he orders. "Not enough to have him go insane, but enough to take away the headache and nausea."

The Avox nods, and leaves the room.

Cato gives another low moan.

"Oh, save it. I'm having him bring you some medicine. You'll be back to normal within minutes. Just shut it, alright?" Antonius snaps, a little out of character. "You're acting like you're the only person who's ever had to suffer through a hangover. This was obviously your first time getting drunk; even though it seems to me you were trying to impress Clove with your fine palette for wine. Well guess what? You look like a damn fool!"

Cato picks his head up out of his arms. At first, his breathing is slow. But it rapidly turns into an animal-like angry pant. I'm afraid he's going to explode.

"_Psst!_"Enobaria hisses. "Let's take our food to my room."

I grab my plate and we bolt out of there as fast as we can without dropping any food off our plates. We reach Enobaria's room in no time.

"Have a seat over at the table there," she orders, closing the door behind me.

I walk over to a table next to a floor-to-ceiling window. I sit down and look around her room.

"And I thought my room was nice," I say, gazing at the large bed with twice as many fluffy pillows as I have. Enobaria also has a refrigerator, television, couch, and two more doors that I don't have in my room.

"Yeah, I was pretty impressed when I first came here all those years ago. Not much has changed," she muses. "I can't believe it's been twelve years since I won. You better win so I can finally stop coming here."

"You don't like it?" I sputter, shocked.

"Well, the luxury is nice and all, but just try to imagine the nightmares I have. Eleven years of failed tributes I've mentored, torturing me. I see them die all over again every night when I go to sleep. And it's not only them. It's the kids I've killed in the Games, directly or indirectly. All the kids I've killed in my Games and the kids I've taught my tributes to kill," she confesses, dipping her toast in her egg.

"Wow. I never thought of that. Will I have all those nightmares, too?" I ask rather childishly.

"Of course. Everyone who wins has them. And the longer the period of time is between your victory and your tribute's victory, the worse they are. Imagine the awful nightmares that drunk from District Twelve has. Almost twenty-five years of failure. I hope that never happens to me."

I sip on my orange juice. "I guess that's why he's always drunk, then."

"Of course it is. Loads of victors turn to drink after they win. You know, winning's not all it's cracked up to be. Sometimes, I wish I died in my Games. Surely there would have been less suffering," Enobaria sighs.

"You really mean that?"

"Well, if it weren't for two people: my sister and Antonius. My sister, Tacita is three years younger than me. She's always been a scrappy little thing who would never get a job as a stonecutter in the quarry or as a Peacekeeper. Now that I've won, she'll never have to work a day in her life," she explains.

"I understand," I tell her sincerely. "When I win, I won't let my little brother work at all. I protect him with my life."

Enobaria smiles. "When you win. I like that. Confidence. That's a good quality to have."

I half-return the smile. "Thanks. And what were you saying? About Antonius being one of the two people you live for? Is there something going on between you two?"

"Isn't it obvious? Once both our tributes win and we're both done mentoring, we're going to get married. It's too much hassle if either or both of us have to come here every year. We figure it's bound to happen within five to ten years. But we can wait. We're taking our time."

"How much older than him are you?" I ask. It's not very common for a woman to be much older than the man she's dating, at least not in District Two.

"Four years. I just turned 30 two months ago," Enobaria answers shamelessly. She really doesn't look thirty. If I had no idea of her age, just looking at her I'd guess she's twenty-nine.

I nod as I butter my toast. Enobaria cackles as she leans back on her chair.

"Here we are, supposed to be talking about your training strategy, but instead I'm telling you my life story. You, of all people!" she chortles.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I accuse, pointing my butter knife at her.

"I'm not really sure. I mean, chances are, you'll be dead in a matter of time anyway." She sees the butter knife in my hand and loses it. "What are you going to do with that? Butter me to death?"

I turn to my left and throw the knife at the wall above her bed, getting a good, solid stick in the wall, even with the butter still on it.

Enobaria gapes, then turns to me in all seriousness. "I've really underestimated you, haven't I?"

I smirk.

"Show them this. The Gamemakers, they've got to see this. They'll give you a nine, at the very least," she gushes.

"So, what were you saying a night or two ago? About me needing to work on other things in training?" I smirk knowingly.

"Forget working with another weapon. Show off your knife skills. But I still stand by what I said about working on survival skills."

I roll my eyes.

"I know what you're planning on doing. You're planning on mooching off the rest of the members of your alliance's skills. Well guess what? If they all die off before the lame tributes and you don't know how to acquire food, you're screwed!" Enobaria shouts.

"I'll have plenty of sponsors to help me out with that bit," I retort.

"Fine. It's your funeral," she hisses in a whisper.

I shrug, and finish off the last of my breakfast. I head back to my room and brush my teeth again. I redo my ponytail, and as soon as I'm finished, Magnus is knocking at the door.

"Clove! Hurry up! We've got to maintain our reputation as the first tributes to arrive! Let's go!" he calls through the door.

I swing open the door to find Cato instead of Magnus. I stare at him, confused. He busts out laughing.

"Oh wow, you actually thought I was Magnus!" he snickers. "I'm getting pretty good at that!"

I start to slam the door, but it stops about three inches from shutting. I look down to see Cato's foot in the door.

"I really came to get you, though. We actually have to go down to the training room," he says, a little more calmly.

I sigh, and follow him out the door, down the hall, and onto the elevator. Magnus is there, waiting.

"Ah, my perfectly punctual tributes! Let's go!" he sings as we board the elevator and descend below ground level.

Sure enough, we actually are the first tributes to arrive. Cato and I step off the elevator, but only make it a few steps before being mesmerized by our surroundings. So many weapons, from swords to spears to bows and arrows to knives. I begin to drool over a particularly sharp knife I spy about 20 yards away when I'm tapped on the shoulder.

I spin around to see the beautiful blond District One girl. She's got about four inches on me.

"Hi, I'm Glimmer, District One," she greets, extending her hand out to me. "You are…?"

"Clove, District Two." I reply, ignoring her hand.

"So, I guess we'll be in an alliance, huh? You seem like you're pretty skillful. Let's just hope the District 4 dorks are, too," she smiles.

"Not too skillful, though. Or else they'll be tougher to kill," I add lamely. I'm not in the mood to make nice with this girl.

"Exactly!" she glows, tossing a braided pigtail over her shoulder.

The District One boy walks over. He's taller than Glimmer, but not as tall as Cato.

"Marvel. You?" he barks.

"Clove."

"He's a real talker," Glimmer mutters to me. "Unfortunately, he's infatuated with me. I'm planning on using it to my advantage, though. Dazzle him into killing everyone off for me, getting food for me, you know."

"You sure know how to use your looks to your benefit," I tell her.

"Oh, I've been doing it for years. I can't even tell you the last time I've done homework!" she giggles.

I look over Glimmer's shoulder and see the District Four tributes stepping off the elevator. They walk over to us, the girl half-smiling, and the boy looking concerned.

The girl tosses a wavy curl over her shoulder and heads straight over to Glimmer. They start talking in a squeaky girlish talk that makes me homicidal. The boy stands near Cato and Marvel, who are having their own conversation, so I decide to walk over to the kid. He's probably about 13 or 14 and is about as tall as me. He has corkscrew strawberry blonde locks sprouting off his head, freckles dotting his cheeks, and sea green eyes focused on the floor.

"Hey, kid. I'm Clove, District Two," I introduce myself.

"I'm Mortimer, but I prefer Mort," he replies, finally taking his eyes off the floor. His eyebrows are knotted in concern.

"Nice to meet you, Mort. You seem worried," I say, trying to be as nice as possible and make conversation.

"I am. I'm not very skillful. I mean, I probably have a lot of skill compared to the tributes in the weaker Districts, but look at me compared to them," he gestures towards Cato and Marvel. "I have no shot at winning this thing. I'll be lucky if I make it past the first day."

"Oh, don't worry about that. You'll be in an alliance with the highest quality tributes. We'll protect you as much as we can until you're either useless or one of the last ones left," I reply, trying to lighten his spirits. Which is weird. I don't do that to anyone except Rhodon. I guess, in a way, Mort reminds me of Rhodon. Except Rhodon isn't as weak and pathetic as I'm now realizing this kid is. I come to the conclusion that Mort's age is probably the only thing he and Rhodon have in common. That, and some amount of my compassion.

"Yeah, but that only goes so far. I'm a goner when you guys turn on me. I don't expect to get out of here alive," he sighs.

"If there's water, you'll have a good shot at winning," I tell him.

"I guess…" he murmurs.

Soon enough, all the tributes are collected here in a circle. A tall muscular woman named Atala steps up. She goes on and on about the training schedule and all the stations set up around the gym. I take the time to look around the circle. Although I'm on the small side, I can definitely take on most of these tributes. I'm scanning the crowd when I make eye contact with the boy from Twelve. I smirk, and his eyes flit away. Threatening them early is a good strategy.

Finally, Atala releases us. I head straight for the knives. The girl from District Six gets there before me. She obviously has no idea what she's doing, since she picks a knife up by the blade. The assistant at the stand gingerly takes it out of her hand.

"Woah there, kid. Don't want to cut yourself up before the Games, now. What's your name?" he asks.

"Sedona," she answers.

"Alright, Sedona, why don't I start by teaching you some technique," he tells her soothingly.

I can't take this anymore. How stupid could you be? I had more common sense when I was five than this girl has now.

"Excuse me, but do you think maybe I can throw a few knives? I don't like wasting my time having to wait here for you to teach this girl how to throw a knife from scratch," I say to the trainer, a little snottily.

"Do you have any experience?" the trainer asks me.

"Why don't I just show you?"

I pick up the knife I've been eyeing since I came down here. I study it in my hand and smirk in admiration. I bend my arm back and swing it forward. I release the knife expertly, catching a dummy right between the eyes.

"May I have a few more throws?" I ask sweetly.

The trainer and Sedona back up. I grab a few more knives and walk back to a spot on the floor marked "_25 yards_." I throw all the knives one at a time in a matter of seconds. The knives in the dummy are in the shape of a smiley-face on its torso.

"Alright, I think I'm warmed up. I'll be back later," I tell the trainer. He and Sedona are gaping at me, so I give a particularly sinister smirk.

The same thing happens for the next three days of training. An inept tribute tries to throw a knife, and I swoop in and throw my knives to make some shape to show my accuracy. After I show off, I wander over to a survival station to see what it's about. The first day, I check out the edible plants, which nearly bores me to death. The next day, I try rope tying, which is equally mind-numbing. On the third day, I give up with the survival skills and walk around to watch the tributes in my alliance. Glimmer is great in hand-to-hand combat, Marvel throws spears like it's nobody's business, Cato decapitates dummies with swords in no more than a second, the District 4 girl, whose name is Catalina, and Mort are both exceptional with tridents.

Every day, the six of us eat lunch at our own little table in the cafeteria off the gymnasium. It feels like school, like I'm at the popular kids' table, surrounded by dorks and losers. Most of the other tributes sit off by themselves, either at their own table or at opposite ends of a table. All the tributes except for the Twelves. They sit at their own table, across from each other, talking, laughing, and having a good time.

"Why are they laughing? They'll be dead in days," Catalina mutters.

"Probably just trying to make the best of the time they have left," Glimmer remarks. "Marvel, would you be a dear and get me some more soup?"

"Absolutely," he grins, getting up from his seat next to her. Marvel's been doing nothing but staring at Glimmer this whole time.

As soon as Marvel reaches the soup cart, Cato says, "Man, he's got it bad for you, Glimmer."

"I know. But why not take advantage of it? It saves me time and energy," she beams. "Hey, Clove, mind if I try a bit of that salad? It looked good but I wasn't sure if I wanted to get a whole plateful."

"Go for it," I say, pushing the plate across the table. The tables are rectangles, and we've been sitting in the same arrangement every day: Marvel on Glimmer's right, Catalina on her left, Mort on my right, and Cato on my left. Mort always takes portions that are too large for him, and distributes the rest among us. Glimmer always scavenges off everyone. Marvel always does Glimmer's bidding. It's the same thing all three days.

Marvel comes back with a bowlful of soup. "Here you go, beautiful," he says with a smile.

Glimmer takes the bowl. "Thank you, Marvel. You're so sweet."

He blushes.

"Wow, Marvel," Cato shakes his head slowly in disapproval.

"What?" Marvel raises his eyebrows.

"You're letting her walk all over you. You're doing everything for her! Tell her to get her own soup. This is just sad."

"I'm not following," Marvel laughs uncomfortably.

"Be a man," Cato grins.

"I'm being a gentleman, which is obviously something you're unfamiliar with. Be good to a lady once in a while, would you?" Marvel snaps.

"Being a gentleman won't get you too far in the Hunger Games," Cato retorts.

"Kindness goes a long way, Cato. Even if it is only temporary," Marvel says lowly.

"I think being a gentleman is wonderful," Catalina intrudes. "It shows that you're a quality man, which Marvel is."

"I think being a gentleman is pointless, especially in this case," I say. "In a matter of days, we're going to be sent off to kill each other, and you're here trying to profess your lame crush on Glimmer, which will just make it harder for you to kill her."

"She's using you, Marvel. Can't you see? I can't tolerate this," Cato sighs.

"Now, Cato, you know that's not true. Marvel and I genuinely like each other," Glimmer says sweetly.

"That's a laugh on your part, Glimmer. Marvel, I just don't know about you, man. I'd never go all gooey for a girl like that, especially when she's clearly using you," Cato shakes his head once more.

"Gee, Cato. That's pretty funny. You're here going on and on about how Marvel is dumb for being '_mesmerized_' by me, when you were trying—" Glimmer is cut off by Catalina jabbing her elbow in her side.

"When I was trying what?" Cato demands.

"Nothing. Never mind. Just forget it," she mumbles. "How about you help me out with a sword?"

"Decapitating you? Sure!" he mocks.

"No, really, you need to help me with technique."

"That's what the assistants are for. Besides, Clove here is going to show me how to throw a knife," he grins.

"Excuse me?" I stammer.

"C'mon, let's get going. I want us to be the first ones there for the afternoon training."

We get up and walk back into the gym. As soon as step out the cafeteria doorway, Cato pulls me aside.

"Listen, I really don't want to deal with Glimmer," Cato whispers.

"Why? Afraid you'll ogle over her so much that you actually begin to drool?" I comment.

"No, she just brings out the worst in me. Besides, she's not really my type," he explains.

"Oh, you have a type, do you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Oh dear!" I clasp my hands together. "Do tell!"

"Well, I prefer girls with dark hair, who are maybe a little on the short side. I like a girl who can joke around but can get serious when the time comes. I'm also a sucker for blue eyes and a great laugh," Cato says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I wasn't serious, Cato. I wasn't really interested in the type of girl you like," I admit.

Cato blushes and I feel a mix of pride at embarrassing him, but also a little guilt for making him feel bad.

"Oh, alright," he laughs.

"I'm sorry. How about I show you the basics of knife-throwing to make up for it," I offer.

"For real?"

"For real. As long as you show me some basics of utilizing a sword," I bargain.

"It's a deal."

The rest of the afternoon is spent teaching Cato how to throw a knife, and him teaching me how to wield a sword. We head back up to our floor for dinner, as we've been doing the past three evenings. Everything's been basically the same, until Cato throws me a curveball as we board the elevator.

"Clove, was I drunk a few nights ago?" he asks, facing me suddenly.

"When? Do you mean the night of the opening ceremonies?"

"Yeah. I only remember bits and pieces of that night. I remember going to dinner that night, and then waking up in the morning with the worst headache and puking. But between that, I don't remember a thing," he explains.

"Yeah, you got pretty drunk at dinner. An Avox brought out some glasses of red wine, and it all went downhill from there."

"What do mean?"

"Well, you drank no less than a dozen glasses and you were smashed before dinner was even over. Then Magnus had me take you to your room, tuck you into bed, sing you a lullaby, you know," I smile.

"Really?" he laughs.

"Well, everything except tucking you in and singing you a lullaby," I clarify.

"Hmm. Anything else interesting happen while I was out of it?"

Oh, no. Does he remember? Is that what this about? I thought maybe we had some mutual understanding to let it go. Maybe he honestly doesn't remember, though. Either way, I'll lie.

"Not really, no. I freaked out when I saw myself on the recap, though," I add to make it seem more believable.

"Oh, really? I wish I could've seen that," he chuckles.

We walk off the elevator and part ways into our rooms. I go through my usual before-dinner routine, and almost collide with Cato as we both step into the hallway at the same time. We walk to the dining room together and take our usual seats.

"So," Enobaria begins. "Tonight you will perform for the Gamemakers. You are to look your nicest and, obviously, perform your best. Make sure they're watching you, and make sure they remember you. The score they give you will determine whether or not you will receive sponsors. So, best of luck to you both."

"Thank you," we reply.

We eat in no time at all, since we don't want to get too full. Cato and I leave the dining room to get ready. As we walk back, Cato throws another curveball at me.

"You know, I don't really have much getting ready to do. Do you think I could maybe braid your hair or something?"

I feel my eyes nearly fall out of my head. "If you want, sure. Why?"

"Well, I used to braid my mother's hair all the time back home, and I really miss it. And I figure you want to make a nice impression on the Gamemakers, so it would help us both. A sort of therapy for me, and a treat for you."

I consent, and we go into my room. I hop on my bed and sit cross-legged with my back to Cato.

"I'm only going to braid the sides of your hair so that you can still wear it in a ponytail," he explains.

I undo my ponytail and brush it. Almost immediately, he goes to work.

"Your hair is just like my mother's, only yours is brown," he says after finishing the first side. "It's so easy to work with."

Soon enough, he's finished the other side, too. He pulls the ends and any hair that didn't go in the braid back into a ponytail. I turn around and look at myself on the mirror on the back of my door.

"Wow," I breathe. "It's beautiful."

I look up at Cato and see his blue eyes crinkled in a genuine smile. I've never been this close to his eyes before. I'm close enough to see flecks of green, gray, and brown in his blue irises, and I declare them to be blue-hazel. I start to get lost in them, and I think he may be getting lost in mine, too. I almost miss the last curveball he throws.

"Not as beautiful as you," he mumbles before his lips come crashing into mine.

So many thoughts and emotions surge through me; I can't bring myself to do anything but kiss back. This kiss is more real than those drunken kisses a few nights ago. But that night seems like eons ago. This night, this moment right now, is the only reality. We continue kissing for a while, not bothering to stop. I'm thoroughly enjoying this, until one rotten thought crawls into my head. _Clove, what are you doing? This is obviously a ploy to shake you. He's trying to faze you so you don't do well in front of the Gamemakers. If you want a good score, you better stop this now and tell him that you've outsmarted him._

I pull away immediately. "Cato, I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make me all gooey and love-y just in time to be a wimp in front of the Gamemakers. Well guess what? That's not going to happen. Get out. I don't want to see you when I don't have to."

"Clove, what are you talking about? I thought you wanted this, for real this time. I guess I was wrong again. I just assumed last time it was because I was drunk. Well, I'm sorry, Clove. I really am," Cato says, with tears in his eyes.

"You remember," I whisper.

"Yes, I remember! I remember everything that happened the other night! I was fishing for how you felt on the elevator! I thought you liked me, Clove. I thought you wanted this. I guess I read your reaction wrong. I'm sorry," he utters before storming out the door. Right before the door closes, I catch him wiping his eyes.

**CATO**

I open my eyes and immediately regret it. It's still dark out, but my pitch-black room is too bright. My head is pounding and throbbing with pain. Suddenly, my stomach throws itself into my throat. I just make it to the toilet when I throw up what feels like a gallon of solids and liquids.

I walk back to my bed and let out a long moan. Suddenly, music starts playing again. And it's that song, the only one that plays that has words. My head's pounding too loud to hear, but I've heard it enough to know it by heart. Usually I enjoy it, but with this monstrous headache, it's just annoying.

As the sum rises on the horizon, I bury my head in pillows to block out the light. I barely hear the door open, and the music shuts off suddenly.

"Hey, kid." It's Antonius. Great. Better than Magnus, though.

"Nngh," I manage out.

"Pretty bad, huh? Well, you're a tough kid. You'll live," he says.

If I wasn't tough, would I be dead by now?

"Anyway," he continues. "I wanted to tell you to get to the dining room early. I want to talk to you there, but we'll have to get rid of the girls. Just follow my lead when we're in there, alright?"

"Mhh," I answer.

He leaves, and I get dressed and brush my teeth to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth. I slouch my way to the dining room, which is unbearably bright. I slump into my chair and bury my head in my arms on the table.

"Aren't you hungry, Cato?" Magnus asks.

I mumble out something that gets him off my back.

"I hear them coming, Cato. Just remember to follow my lead, alright?" Antonius says.

I hear the door open, but it sounds like it's just Enobaria, unless Clove's being extremely quiet.

"Where's Clove?" Magnus inquires.

"Getting ready. She'll be here in a few minutes," Enobaria answers.

Everyone is relatively quiet until I hear the door open once more.

"Well, Clove, at least you're not late," Magnus sighs.

"Morning to you, too," she snorts.

It's getting too loud in here. The talking, plates clattering, it's all beating on my temples. I let out a slight moan.

I hear Antonius talk to an Avox; something about bringing me medicine. Whatever it is, it better help.

Another pain sends a shockwave through my head. I moan again, and don't miss a word of Antonius' reaction.

"Oh, save it. I'm having him bring you some medicine. You'll be back to normal within minutes. Just shut it, alright? You're acting like you're the only person who's ever had to suffer through a hangover. This was obviously your first time getting drunk; even though it seems to me you were trying to impress Clove with your fine palette for wine. Well guess what? You look like a damn fool!"

I raise my head from my hands, anger overtaking me. I see Clove and Enobaria leave out of the corner of my eye. Just as I'm about to lunge at Antonius, he sits back and sighs.

"Alright, Cato. Good job. Now let's get down to business. What's your greatest skill, weapon-wise?" he starts.

I sit back, realizing this was his plan to get rid of Clove and Enobaria. That still doesn't mean I forgive him for embarrassing me. "Swords, mostly. I'm pretty accurate with a spear, too. And if you embarrass me like that again, I'll drive one of them into your chest. We clear?"

He laughs. "Sure, Cato. Whatever you say."

The Avox brings in a small blue pill and a glass of water on a silver tray. He holds it out in front of me. I take the pill and swallow it down with water, and my headache disintegrates almost immediately. My nausea subsides, and I realize I'm starving. Did I eat last night? Yes, I remember eating. I remember! The previously spotty memories of last night are now crystal clear. I was a total jerk last night. I drank at least a dozen glasses of wine and got hammered. Clove had to take me to my room and… Oh. Oh no. I didn't really do that, did I? Did I really kiss her? Oh yes, I definitely did. I bury my head in my hands in utter humiliation. What does she think of me? Am I just some stupid kid who thinks he's great because he got drunk and took advantage of a girl? I'm despicable.

"What's wrong, Cato? Didn't the ambidrenosine work?" Antonius asks.

"No, it worked fine. Too fine," I sigh.

"What's the matter then?"

"I… When I was drunk last night, when Clove had to take me to my room, I… I kissed her. I shouldn't have, but I wasn't in control of my actions and I feel awful," I explain.

"Wow, Cato has some feelings," Antonius laughs. "I'm sure she's fine with it. She knew you were drunk and that you didn't know what you were doing. Besides, she probably enjoyed it. She seems to have a thing for you. Not that it would do you any good."

I look up at him. "You really think she enjoyed it?"

"Probably. But what does it matter anyway?"

I shrug. What do I care if she enjoyed the kiss? I mean, who wouldn't?

"Anyway," Antonius says. "Let's get back on track. So, spears and swords. If you're as good as you seem to be, show the Gamemakers your skills and you're guaranteed to get a double-digit score."

I sit and wait for more directions. When he doesn't continue, I say, "…And…?"

"And what?"

"That's it?"

"That's it. You know what you're doing. You'll be fine."

Antonius gets up and walks out of the room. I pull my chair over to the buffet table and dig in with my bare hands.

The door opens, and I spin around to see Magnus. I hadn't noticed he was even gone.

"So, where is everyone?" he smiles.

"Gone, I guess."

"You seem to be over your hangover. Ambidrenosine?"

"I guess so."

I finish up eating and leave to get ready. I shower, brush my teeth, dress, and style my hair. I walk into the hall and see Magnus headed my way.

"Oh, Cato, you're ready, good. Would you mind letting Clove know it's time to go? I'll be waiting in the elevator," he calls.

I walk over to Clove's door, clear my throat, and knock. "Clove! Hurry up!" I call in Magnus' accent. "We've got to maintain our reputation as the first tributes to arrive! Let's go!"

The door flies open and she looks at my chest, then slowly moves her eyes up to mine. She looks totally confused. I burst out laughing.

"Oh wow, you actually thought I was Magnus! I'm getting pretty good at that!" I chuckle.

Clove tries to slam the door, but I put my foot in the doorway, anticipating her doing this. She looks down at the floor, then back up at me with a scowl.

"I really came to get you, though. We actually have to go down to the training room," I explain once I've stopped laughing.

I walk down the hall to the elevator with Clove following close behind. Magnus comments on our punctuality, but I'm only half-listening. I just want to see the weapons here at the Capitol.

When we arrive at our destination, I'm in awe at the supplies around me. I'm slowly spinning around, taking it all in. When I turn to face the elevator, I see the District 1 tributes stepping out. The girl wiggles her fingers at me, trying to be flirty, but I'm unfazed. They walk over to me.

"Hello, I'm Glimmer, and this is Marvel. District One. And you?" the girl beams.

"Cato, District Two."

"Nice to meet you, man," Marvel greets, extending his hand out to mine. I hesitantly shake it. We don't really shake hands too often in District Two; only the tributes on Reaping Day shake hands. I guess it's more common in District One.

Glimmer waltzes over to Clove, and I turn back to Marvel.

"She's pretty hot, huh?" Marvel smiles, looking over at the girls.

"Who, Glimmer or Clove?"

"Well, I was referring to Glimmer, but the other chick's pretty cute too. What's her name again?" he shoots me a glance.

"Clove. Why don't you go introduce yourself?" I shoot back.

"I think I will. Don't want to get my lady too jealous, though," he says before turning towards the girls.

"Your lady?" I ask, but get no answer.

Marvel walks over to Clove and says, "Marvel. You?"

"Clove," she replies, a little put off. She turns back to Glimmer, who continues their conversation.

"Smooth, man," I laugh to Marvel.

"If I would have been smoother, Glimmer would have gotten jealous," he explains.

"Why?" I ask, confused. I have no idea what he means.

"She's my lady. We're crazy about each other. I'm going to protect her with my life."

"So you're not even going to try to win?"

"If, for some reason, she gets killed and it's out of my control, then I plan to win for the both of us," Marvel explains.

"That's not the best plan, is it?" I imply.

"Why isn't it?"

"Well, think about it. If you both love each other so much, you're both better off dead. Imagine living in a world without Glimmer. Would that be a life worth living?"

He stares blankly at me for a few seconds. "She'll have to win, then," he whispers.

"If she loves you back, she'll feel the same way. It's better for both of you to die, don't you think?"

He doesn't get a chance to answer, because Atala, a woman almost as tall and muscular as me, rounds us up into a circle. She starts talking, but I alternate between looking at the stations and tributes. My eyes focus on the sword station. Atala releases us, and I march over and grab a sword, about 2 feet long, and start to swing at and stab the dummies set up for us to practice with. I stop, turn around, and see a small crowd of about five tributes and two assistants gaping at me.

I grin. "Alright, I think I'm warmed up. I'll be back later. Who's next?"

"I'll give it a try," Glimmer grins dazzlingly.

I hand her my sword, and she takes it, making sure she touches my hand with hers slyly. She tosses a braid over her shoulder, and steps forward to a dummy. She brings her arm back, and swings it forward, stabbing the dummy. It's a good stick, but nothing too exceptional

This is when I realize something: the only way Glimmer will win the Games is if she has Marvel kill everyone off for her, including himself. She doesn't really love Marvel; she's just using him. Which also explains why she's being all flirty with me. Does she think I'll fall for her and her little trap and do the same? Or is she really attracted to me?

As soon as Glimmer's done, she saunters over to me. "So," she says. "What did you think?"

"I've seen better," I reply, looking away.

She reaches up to me, grabs my chin, and turns my head towards her. "Playing hard to get, are we?" she smirks playfully.

"No. I don't want someone else's girl," I retort, grinning.

"What do you mean?" she bats her eyelashes.

"Marvel told me all about you two. How you're crazy about each other, so in love, willing to die for each other, all that."

Glimmer drops her hand from my chin, along with the smile on her face. "I'd never die for anyone. There's nothing between Marvel and me. But if you tell anyone, _anyone_, I'll destroy you."

"As if I'm scared of you. Pathetic. But your secret's safe with me…for now," I smirk.

Everyday, I swing some swords and throw some spears. Glimmer pretty much avoids me, except at lunch. Lunch is served in a cafeteria off the gym, with buffet tables all around the perimeter of the room. There's about 20 tables to eat at, which are almost all occupied. Most tributes sit off by themselves, except for the District Twelves and my table, which is occupied by Glimmer, Marvel, Clove, me, and the District 4 tributes, Mort and Catalina.

We're finishing up eating, splitting up Mort's leftovers, when the Twelves start to guffaw.

"Why are they laughing? They'll be dead in days," Catalina grumbles.

"Probably just trying to make the best of the time they have left," Glimmer comments. "Marvel, would you be a dear and get me some more soup?"

"Absolutely," he beams, taking his left arm off her shoulders for the first time since we sat down today.

As soon as Marvel's out of earshot, I shake my head. "Man, he's got it bad for you, Glimmer."

"I know. But why not take advantage of it? It saves me time and energy," she glows, unfazed. "Hey, Clove, mind if I try a bit of that salad? It looked good but I wasn't sure if I wanted to get a whole plateful."

_What a lame attempt at changing the subject_, I think. _I won't let this go for too long_.

"Go for it," Clove sighs, gliding the plate across the table.

I'm about to change the subject back to Marvel, when he practically skips back with a bowlful of soup.

"Here you go, beautiful," he gleams.

"Thank you, Marvel. You're so sweet."

His cheeks and ears turn red, and a goofy smile spreads across his face.

"Wow, Marvel," I shake my head.

"What?" Marvel looks over at me.

"You're letting her walk all over you. You're doing everything for her! Tell her to get her own soup. This is just sad."

"I'm not following," he chuckles awkwardly.

"Be a man," I smirk.

"I'm being a gentleman, which is obviously something you're unfamiliar with. Be good to a lady once in a while, would you?" Marvel barks.

"Being a gentleman won't get you too far in the Hunger Games," I reply.

"Kindness goes a long way, Cato. Even if it is only temporary," Marvel remarks.

"I think being a gentleman is wonderful," Catalina interrupts. "It shows that you're a quality man, which Marvel is."

"I think being a gentleman is pointless, especially in this case," Clove counters. "In a matter of days, we're going to be sent off to kill each other, and you're here trying to profess your lame crush on Glimmer, which will just make it harder for you to kill her."

"She's using you, Marvel. Can't you see? I can't tolerate this," I exhale.

"Now, Cato, you know that's not true. Marvel and I genuinely like each other," Glimmer chirps.

"That's a laugh on your part, Glimmer. Marvel, I just don't know about you, man. I'd never go all gooey for a girl like that, especially when she's clearly using you," I say, shaking my head once more.

"Gee, Cato. That's pretty funny. You're here going on and on about how Marvel is dumb for being '_mesmerized_' by me, when you were trying—" Glimmer starts, stopped by Catalina jabbing her elbow in her side.

"When I was trying what?" I ask.

"Nothing. Never mind. Just forget it," she mutters. "How about you help me out with a sword?"

"Decapitating you? Sure!" I exclaim.

"No, really, you need to help me with technique."

"That's what the assistants are for. Besides, Clove here is going to show me how to throw a knife," I say, putting my hand on Clove's back.

"Excuse me?" Clove splutters.

"C'mon, let's get going. I want us to be the first ones there for the afternoon training."

I offer Clove my hand, and she takes it. She stands up, and releases my hand. We walk out of the cafeteria, and I pull Clove and myself out of sight from anyone else. Her eyes widen and she tilts her head, silently demanding an explanation.

"Listen, I really don't want to deal with Glimmer," I murmur.

"Why? Afraid you'll ogle over her so much that you actually begin to drool?" Clove says snottily.

"No, she just brings out the worst in me. Besides, she's not really my type," I clarify.

"Oh, you have a type, do you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Oh dear!" Clove cries, smacking her hands together and holds them over her heart. "Do tell!"

"Well, I prefer girls with dark hair, who are maybe a little on the short side. I like a girl who can joke around but can get serious when the time comes. I'm also a sucker for blue eyes and a great laugh," I blabber, and almost kick myself when I realize what I've just done: I've just described Clove. What's going on? Is she really my ideal girl? It doesn't matter; she'll be dead soon anyway. There will be plenty of girls like her back home. I just hope she doesn't comprehend what I've just implied.

"I wasn't serious, Cato. I wasn't really interested in the type of girl you like," Clove scoffs.

I blush, but feel relieved. Hopefully I can just laugh it off convincingly.

"Oh, alright," I chortle.

"I'm sorry. How about I show you the basics of knife-throwing to make up for it," she smiles.

"For real?"

"For real. As long as you show me some basics of utilizing a sword," Clove smirks.

"It's a deal."

We begin by going to the knife station. I've practiced with knives before, but I haven't really done any serious throwing in about five years. I moved on to swords and spears when I was 13, leaving knife throwing behind. As Clove shows me the basics, I realize it's just like riding a bike. I remember the fundamentals of it, and when Clove approves of my work, we move on to the swords. It turns out Clove only worked with swords for a couple of months back when she was 14, but she doesn't remember most of it. I show her some simple, basic skills, and she imitates my actions successfully. She's a fast learner, and by the time we're done, it's time for dinner. Tonight is the latest we've finished so far.

As we step on the elevator, I ask the question that's been festering inside me. "Clove, was I drunk a few nights ago?"

She looks up at me, taken aback. "When? Do you mean the night of the opening ceremonies?"

"Yeah. I only remember bits and pieces of that night. I remember going to dinner that night, and then waking up in the morning with the worst headache and puking. But between that, I don't remember a thing."

"Yeah, you got pretty drunk at dinner. An Avox brought out some glasses of red wine, and it all went downhill from there."

"What do mean?"

"Well, you drank no less than a dozen glasses and you were smashed before dinner was even over. Then Magnus had me take you to your room, tuck you into bed, sing you a lullaby, you know," she grins genuinely. She's actually really beautiful when she smiles. So beautiful that I actually laugh.

"Really?"

"Well, everything except tucking you in and singing you a lullaby," she explains.

"Hmm," I say, as if debating whether or not that's the truth. "Anything else interesting happen while I was out of it?"

The smile falls off her face and her eyes widen in fear. I can tell she's debating whether or not to tell me about the kiss.

"Not really, no," she decides. "I freaked out when I saw myself on the recap, though."

I laugh believably. "Really? I wish I could've seen that."

The elevator reaches our floor, and we walk into our rooms. I bathe, brush my teeth, get dressed, and fix my hair. I quickly open my door, and almost trample Clove as we simultaneously step into the hall. We walk swiftly and silently to the dining room and take our seats.

Enobaria gives her creepy golden-fanged smile and clasps her hands together, resting them on the table. "So. Tonight you will perform for the Gamemakers. You are to look your nicest and, obviously, perform your best. Make sure they're watching you, and make sure they remember you. The score they give you will determine whether or not you will receive sponsors. So, best of luck to you both."

Clove and I thank her, and dig in to our food. We quickly finish, and head out of the dining room.

My mind begins to wander, and I think of my mother. I remember braiding her hair whenever she'd go out somewhere nice. I haven't braided it in months. Two months, actually. The last time I braided her hair was when she and my father went out to eat for their anniversary two months ago. It was the most intricate braid I've done, and the most beautiful, too.

I look down at Clove. "You know, I don't really have much getting ready to do. Do you think I could maybe braid your hair or something?"

She stops walking, and looks up at me, stunned. "If you want, sure. Why?"

"Well, I used to braid my mother's hair all the time back home, and I really miss it. And I figure you want to make a nice impression on the Gamemakers, so it would help us both. A sort of therapy for me, and a treat for you," I smile.

She says okay, and we head into her room. She crawls onto her bed and folds her legs, her back facing me.

"I'm only going to braid the sides of your hair so that you can still wear it in a ponytail," I tell her. I want her to still look like her usual self, just…improved.

She takes her ponytail out and brushes her hair. As soon as she's done, I begin to braid. As I double French braid the left side of her head, I realize something.

"Your hair is just like my mother's, only yours is brown," I say as I complete the first braid. "It's so easy to work with."

Before I know it, the right side is done. I draw the ends of the braid, along with the bottom layer of hair that didn't go in the braid back into a ponytail. Clove spins around and looks at herself on the mirror on the back of a door.

"Wow," she exhales. "It's beautiful."

She's giving me that genuine smile again that I can't help but return. I look into her eyes. They're so blue, yet so gray. She looks so…gorgeous. I can't help myself.

"Not as beautiful as you," I murmur as I lean in towards her. She leans into me too, and our lips meet. I wrap my arms around her waist and she encloses her arms around my back.

We kiss and kiss and kiss, only stopping to come up for air. I'm being careful not to mess up Clove's hair, but she's mussing her fingers through mine. It takes about 10 minutes to style, but as long as it means we keep kissing, I'm not stopping her.

We kiss for about five more minutes, when Clove starts to pull away. I start kissing her neck, but she puts her hands on my chest and pulls away from me altogether.

"Cato, I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make me all gooey and love-y just in time to be a wimp in front of the Gamemakers. Well guess what? That's not going to happen. Get out. I don't want to see you when I don't have to," she growls harshly.

"Clove, what are you talking about? I thought you wanted this, for real this time. I guess I was wrong again. I just assumed last time it was because I was drunk. Well, I'm sorry, Clove. I really am," I apologize, with tears starting to form in my eyes.

"You remember," she breathes.

"Yes, I remember! I remember everything that happened the other night! I was fishing for how you felt on the elevator! I thought you liked me, Clove. I thought you wanted this. I guess I read your reaction wrong. I'm sorry," I hiss.

I fly out of the room, making sure Clove catches me wiping a tear right before the door slams. As soon as the door shuts, I let loose my sinister, wicked grin.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Note from the author:_**_ Thank you all for reading so far! Sorry for such a long wait; I had a bad case of writer's block. However, after seeing The Hunger Games movie three times, I got around to writing this chapter. It took a while and it's not too long, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!_

_Warning: minor foul language this chapter. No f-bombs or anything, just little things here and there._

* * *

><p><strong>CLOVE<strong>

"Cato, wait!" I shout as I fling myself off my bed.

I throw open my door and grab the knob on Cato's door. I try to turn it, but it's no use; it's locked.

"Cato, please open the door! We need to talk," I call as I knock on the door so hard that I'm afraid my knuckles will start bleeding. "Dammit, Cato, come on! Please!"

There's nothing but silence from Cato's side.

"Fine!" I bellow. "If you're going to act like a little bitch about it, then I won't feel so guilty about the way I acted!"

"That doesn't make sense," he says through his door.

"What?"

"That doesn't make sense. I'd think that you'd care more, considering this is the one and only time someone's ever made me feel this shitty. And honestly, I don't know what I did wrong. So we made out, big deal. It's probably the last delight you'll ever get. I enjoyed it. I thought you enjoyed it. Scratch that, I _know_ you enjoyed it. You just won't allow yourself to be happy, and I don't know why."

"You know why I won't allow myself to be happy?" I growl into the door. "Because I'm going to have to kill you soon, and you better believe I will. I don't want to get attached to you. I don't want to protect you, feel sorry for you, or care about you. All we are is allies, Cato. Even if we both thoroughly enjoyed making out, nothing good can come out of it. Do you expect us to do that in the arena? Honestly, Cato, there's no other explanation for what you did other than to shake me up. Well, guess what? I feel nothing for you. I'm sorry if you feel anything for me. All it's going to do is harm you."

"That's fine, Clove. That's perfectly fine," he says calmly. "Now please, leave me alone. I really don't want to see you when I don't have to."

Ouch. That stings. Was it really that mean when I said it? Of course it was; I'm heartless. So heartless that I don't even persist trying to talk to Cato. I walk back into my room and brush my teeth. I don't want the taste of Cato on my mouth anymore. I look in the mirror and see my hair is perfectly in place. I contemplate undoing it, but it just looks so amazing. I let it go and leave my room. I board the elevator and head back down to the gym without being told.

I'm not the first one here this time. Marvel, Glimmer, Catalina, and Mort are all here already. Marvel nods his head at me, and Glimmer and Catalina turn their heads to me and wave, but go right back to their conversation without further acknowledgment. Mort looks my way, and his eyebrows knot sympathetically.

"Clove," he says walking over to me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," I smile weakly.

"No you're not. No one here is fine. What's wrong?"

"I really don't want to talk about it," I say, my voice beginning to rise.

"You sure?"

"I said, I REALLY DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!"

Everyone turns and looks at me, fuming with my fists clenched at my sides. I'm almost positive my face is red with anger.

"Anyone else want to ask me what's wrong?" I call out, with a sarcastic smile spread on my face.

The other tributes look away, pretending nothing happened. I look down at Mort, whose face is drained of color. He backs away slowly, looking purely terrified.

I walk over to the nearby wall and sit up against it. I bury my face in my hands, and sit like that for a while. When I look up again, my allies are in their little group, talking to…the District Eleven boy? Why?

Then I remember. On the train, Cato and I agreed we wanted him in our alliance. I guess he talked to the others about it and they agreed. I stand up, just in time to see the Eleven boy amble off. I walk over to my allies.

"What an idiot," Glimmer comments.

"His loss," Marvel shrugs.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"We offered Thresh a position in our alliance, but he declined," Catalina explains, avoiding eye contact with me.

I look Thresh's way. He seems to be quite the loner, always by himself, barely ever talking. Maybe that's the way to go. At least Thresh won't have to deal with the awkward situation I'm in.

Before I can comment, we're called into the cafeteria. One by one, we're called into the gym for our sessions with the Gamemakers. Marvel leaves first, hesitating to let go of Glimmer's hand. "It's ok, you need to go," she has to tell him. What skills does he have besides throwing a spear? Nothing I can think of. Still, he's exceptional with that spear.

Glimmer's called about five minutes later. What skills does _she_ have? I can't even think of any that she could show the Gamemakers. All she can do is hand-to-hand combat. She sucks at everything else. But, because of her beauty and seduction, she'll probably still pull an 8 or 9.

Cato is called within minutes. He stands up from his seat, takes a few steps, then looks over his shoulder and winks at me. Ugh. Even though whatever happened between us was strange and evoked so many emotions, Cato will still probably pull at least a 10, since he knows how to throw spears and wield a sword. And now, thanks to me, he knows his way around a knife. Oh, how stupid I was to show him how to use a knife! On the contrary, I now know the basics of a sword. But enough to show the Gamemakers?

Before I can answer my question, I'm called into the gym. I look up at the Gamemakers, who are smiling and whispering to each other, but have their eyes set on me. I march in with a smirk on my face, and head straight for the knives. I grab a half dozen and go to work. I hit target after target to warm up, then begin what will surely be a masterpiece. I walk over to face a bare wall, pulling the cart of knives over with me. One by one, I throw the knives at the wall to spell out "CLOVE."

"Very nice work, Clove," the head Gamemaker calls to me. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we are pleased. Thank you very much. You are dismissed."

"Thank you," I smirk, and head for the exit. That'll show Cato that even if he toys with my emotions, I'll still make the best out of it. And it can't get much better than that.

I zip up the elevator to the second floor and head for the dining room. Cato, Magnus, the stylists, and the mentors are already there in their usual seats.

"Clove! Splendid. Sit down so you and Cato can talk to us about your sessions with the Gamemakers," Magnus gushes.

"That's confidential, isn't it?" Cato asks.

"Well, it is, but I'm curious to hear how you both did."

"I think I'll let my score speak for itself."

"Very well then," Magnus sighs.

I take my usual seat and we all eat dinner in silence. As soon as we're done, we head into the sitting room to watch for our scores. Enobaria, Antonius, and Tertia sit on one couch, and Magnus, Fausta, and Cato sit on the other, leaving no room for me.

"Where am I supposed to sit?" I ask anyone.

"You could always pull a chair in from the dining room," Tertia offers.

"You can sit on my lap, baby," Cato grins.

"I think I'll just get a chair from the dining room," I snarl.

I hear Magnus telling Cato something about manners, and Cato retorting something back. I come back with the chair, and Magnus rises.

"Here, Clove, take my seat. I'll sit on the dining chair," Magnus offers. I look at where he was sitting, and see that the seat would be right next to Cato. I sigh and accept his offer. As soon as I sit down, Cato rests his arm around my shoulders. I take it off, but he puts it right back where it was, and I sigh.

The TV turns on, and they begin showing the scores. Marvel pulls a nine, Glimmer pulls an eight. Then they're showing Cato's picture and flashing a ten. He leaps up off the couch and begins flexing his muscles and whooping. Magnus yells at him to sit down so we can see my score. He obeys, just in time to see the ten flashing under my name.

"Suck it, Cato!" I yell as I leap up off the couch and flex my muscles.

"Yeah, well, you got lucky," Cato says, standing up. "That won't mean much in the arena."

"Oh, really?" I taunt, walking closer to him, so that we're only inches away. "That's funny, since you got the same score."

"Ooh, the sexual tension in here!" Enobaria calls, fanning herself. Cato and I glare at her. I'm about to retort, when Magnus starts yelling.

"Everyone, please! Sit down and keep quiet! You're missing the scores!"

We sit down in time to see Thresh score a nine, and the little District 11 girl, Rue, pull a seven. The District 12 boy manages an eight, which is actually something to be reckoned with. Then comes the Fire Girl. She didn't seem to have much skill in training, from what I saw. Which is why my eyes almost fall out of my head when the score of eleven pops up under her name. This must be a mistake. How the hell did she of all people pull an eleven?

"What the hell is this?" Cato growls, hands gripping the couch cushion underneath him.

"That would be an eleven. It's one more than ten, and one less then twelve," I explain sarcastically.

Cato turns to me, pure anger in his eyes. "You sure you wanna do this? You sure you wanna get me even madder? Seeing you pull a ten was one thing. Seeing that Fire Bitch pull an eleven has me more pissed than I've been in a while. You sure you wanna see if you can manage to get me so mad that I'll tear your tiny little head off?"

"Now, Cato," Magnus starts.

"You too?" Cato screeches. "You wanna piss me off too?"

"Why, not at all! Quite the opposite," Magnus says, terrified.

Cato starts to foam at the mouth when I put my hand on his arm. I can tell he's about to throw a huge shit fit. "Cato, you're looking at this all wrong," I begin. He looks over at me, livid yet confused. "So, she got an eleven. It just means she'll be that much more of a target!"

"But the sponsors," he whispers hotly.

"No one's going to sponsor her just because she got an eleven. She has to be likeable, and if you haven't noticed, no one likes her. She's just a miserable girl who openly despises being here."

Cato's face turns less red, and his breathing becomes steadier. "If you're wrong, I'll give you such an excruciating death—"

"Like you won't anyway," I interrupt.

"I'm going to bed," he growls and storms down the hall.

Everyone is quiet until we hear the door slam. Then Enobaria says, "Alright, now that he's gone, I want to hear what you did in your session that made the Gamemakers give you a ten."

I grin. "Oh, nothing much. I threw about a half a dozen knives at a target to warm up, and then I spelled out my name with knives on the wall."

"Genius!" Enobaria yells. "That is pure gold right there. What did they say?"

"They were very pleased," I tell her.

"It was clever, I'll give you that," says Antonius.

"Thanks."

"I bet it took a while to remove all those knives. How many did you use?" Tertia asks.

"Almost a whole cart full. It was exhausting, but well worth it to come up with a ten."

"And even more worth it to see the look on Cato's face when your score came up on the screen!" Enobaria guffaws, and I join in her laughter.

"Alright, alright," Magnus says, trying not to laugh. "I think it's time for you to get to bed, Clove. You have to wake up early so you can have your coaching session with me at eight, then your session with Enobaria at twelve."

"Okay," I sigh, still a little giddy from laughter. So giddy that I call out, "Good night, everyone!"

Enobaria loses it, but everyone else wishes me a good night back.

I walk to my room, and shower quickly. I pick out pajamas and fling myself onto my bed and under my covers. I shut my eyes, but within seconds realize that I'm lying under the very comforter Cato and I made out on. There's probably nothing wrong with it, but I rip the comforter off me and fling it across the room. An Avox walks in my room to retrieve it, and I ask her for another one. She nods her head and leaves, but I'm asleep before she returns with the new comforter.

**CATO**

What an idiot. How stupid of her to actually fall for that! To think that she almost figured out that I was trying to shake up her emotions. And then she second-guessed herself! I guess my fake tears are pretty convincing.

As I slam the door to my room behind me and lock it, I begin fixing my hair, even though there's no mirror around. I head straight to the bathroom to find that my hair doesn't look too bad and will probably only need about five minutes of fixing. I'm about to put product in my hair when I hear Clove outside my door. Out of curiosity, I walk over to the door to hear what she's saying.

"If you're going to act like a little bitch about it, then I won't feel so guilty about the way I acted!"

"That doesn't make sense," I say through the closed door.

"What?"

"That doesn't make sense," I repeat. "I'd think that you'd care more, considering this is the one and only time someone's ever made me feel this shitty. And honestly, I don't know what I did wrong. So we made out, big deal. It's probably the last delight you'll ever get. I enjoyed it. I thought you enjoyed it. Scratch that, I _know_ you enjoyed it. You just won't allow yourself to be happy, and I don't know why."

"You know why I won't allow myself to be happy?" she snaps. "Because I'm going to have to kill you soon, and you better believe I will. I don't want to get attached to you. I don't want to protect you, feel sorry for you, or care about you. All we are is allies, Cato. Even if we both thoroughly enjoyed making out, nothing good can come out of it. Do you expect us to do that in the arena? Honestly, Cato, there's no other explanation for what you did other than to shake me up. Well, guess what? I feel nothing for you. I'm sorry if you feel anything for me. All it's going to do is harm you."

"That's fine, Clove. That's perfectly fine," I say, grinning. "Now please, leave me alone. I really don't want to see you when I don't have to."

I realize that last quip might be a little much, but I think it was a nice touch. I have a hard time holding in my laughter as I imagine the look on Clove's face.

As soon as I hear Clove slam her door shut, I go back to the bathroom to finish fixing my hair. I think about things to shake Clove up further, but resolve that any more of the heartbroken act wouldn't be very believable.

I leave my room and head down the elevator to find that the only tributes here so far are those from Districts One and Four. I walk over to the group and they welcome me, which is a little strange.

"What's going on? You're all acting a little strange," I say carefully.

"Clove just had a slight meltdown," Catalina whispers.

"How slight?" I ask, trying my best not to smile.

"She came down here all mad, and when I asked her what was wrong, she yelled at me," Mort explains shakily. It's honestly the first time I've heard him speak more than a few words at a time.

"Well where is she?" I question, looking behind Marvel and Catalina across from me.

"Over there, up against the wall," Marvel points to the wall behind me. There she is, her petite figure slumped on the ground, head buried in her arms. "Maybe you can calm her down."

"Yeah, right. I'd just make things worse. Just give her time; she'll calm down on her own," I wave him off.

"There's that big District Eleven boy," Glimmer comments. I turn to the elevator and see him, along with the little girl from his District step into the gym.

"We need him in our alliance," I tell them.

"What makes you think we need him?" Glimmer questions.

"Look at him. He's a brute. If he's with us, we'll be undefeatable," I answer.

"Well, let's call him over and offer him a spot in our alliance," Catalina says.

"Hey, Thresh!" I call.

He looks over, confused and somewhat angry. "What?"

"Come here."

He walks over cautiously, but not in a frightened way. "What do you want?"

"We'd like to offer you a position in our alliance," Glimmer tells him, giving a winning grin.

He looks each of us over. "What makes you think I'd want to team up with all of you?"

"Well, you can clearly see we're the strongest and most competent tributes. Why wouldn't you want to join? It's like that old saying, if you can't beat them join them," Catalina glows.

"No thanks," Thresh grumbles, turning to walk away.

"You sure?" Marvel calls.

"Positive."

"What an idiot," Glimmer hisses.

"His loss," Marvel says, shaking his head.

"What's going on?"

I spin my head to where that all too familiar voice came from, to find its owner, Clove. She looks at all of us, waiting for an answer. Everyone avoids eye contact, and before things get too awkward, Catalina tells her.

Before anyone can suffocate from the tension in the air, we're all called into the cafeteria to wait to be called for our private sessions with the Gamemakers.

Marvel is called first and nearly cries when he has to let go of Glimmer's hand. When he's out of earshot, she lets out a sigh of relief, then grabs my thigh under the table. I give her an angry look, and she smiles flirtatiously in return. Thankfully, she's called in and I let out a sigh of relief before she's out of earshot. She whips her head around and smiles again.

I'm left with about five minutes to figure out exactly what I'm going to do to wow the Gamemakers. About four minutes into planning, I toss out all my thoughts and decide to wing it.

I get called to my session, and start to walk to the gym. Hoping to shake Clove up further, I turn around and wink at her. She gives me a look of disgust, and I take a page out of the Glimmer Handbook and smile back.

As I walk into the gym, the Gamemakers are all whispering and nodding. I walk over to the swords station. I pick up a sword and start decapitating dummies, severing their limbs. I give a few more fatal stabs before moving over to the knives. I throw about a half dozen, nearly getting a bull's-eye with about four of them. From there, I move on to the spears. I aim for both targets and dummies, successfully penetrating whatever I hit.

"Nice work, Cato," the head Gamemaker says when I'm finished. "It's clear you have many skills and are very versatile. You're a strong player, and we look forward to watching you participate in this year's Games. You are dismissed."

If that doesn't get me a minimum score of ten, I don't know what will. I'll probably be this year's highest-scoring tribute. I grin madly as I board the elevator and head up to the second floor.

When the doors open, I head straight to the dining room, knowing everyone will be there waiting. I step into the doorway of the dining room, and everyone starts spitting out questions.

"How was it, Cato?"

"What do you think your score will be?"

"How long was your session?"

Before I can say a word, Magnus shouts, "Everyone, please! Quiet down! I think we should wait for Clove. She should be up in a few minutes. Cato, why don't you go ahead and take your seat."

I sit down in my seat, and begin sipping on a glass of water. I've been cut off from alcohol, and it's probably for the best.

Clove walks in, and Magnus nearly explodes from anxiety. "Clove! Splendid. Sit down so you and Cato can talk to us about your sessions with the Gamemakers."

"That's confidential, isn't it?" I ask, wanting to really set Magnus off.

"Well, it is, but I'm curious to hear how you both did."

"I think I'll let my score speak for itself."

"Very well then," Magnus sighs.

As soon as Clove sits down, we begin to eat dinner in a somewhat awkward silence. We eat quickly, because we're all anxious to see our scores. Everyone heads for the sitting room, which is a small room off the dining room. It contains two sofas and a television. I plop myself down on one of the sofas, between Fausta and Magnus. Tertia, Enobaria, and Antonius occupy the other couch, leaving Clove with nowhere to sit.

"Where am I supposed to sit?" Clove asks, almost on cue.

"You could always pull a chair in from the dining room," Tertia suggests.

"You can sit on my lap, baby," I smirk.

"I think I'll just get a chair from the dining room," Clove grumbles. She walks out into the dining room, and Magnus turns my way.

"Cato, have you no manners? That is no way to treat a lady! You should have offered her your seat!"

"Then if you're such a gentleman, why don't you offer her _your_ seat?" I shoot right back at him.

He considers this. As soon as Clove comes back with a chair, Magnus hops off the couch. "Here, Clove, take my seat. I'll sit on the dining chair."

She looks at where he was sitting, then looks at me. I begin patting the cushion, gesturing her to sit by me. She sighs, and takes the seat on the couch next to me. As soon as she settles, I place my arm around her shoulders. This seems to piss her off. She takes my arm off of her, but I put it right back on, trying not to laugh.

The television turns on, and the Capitol seal is on the screen. Then the scores are displayed tribute by tribute. Marvel's score is first, a nine. Then Glimmer's score, an eight, flashes under her picture. Then my picture appears, and a ten flashes on the screen. A ten!

"Woohoo! Oh yeah!" I start hooting, hollering, and flexing my muscles in victory.

"Sit down, Cato! There are other tributes besides yourself, you know. We want to see Clove's score," Magnus says.

I sit down just in time to see Clove appear on the screen. I'm expecting an eight or nine when a ten pops up on the screen.

"YES!" Clove screams, hopping off the couch. "Suck it, Cato!" She starts flexing her muscles, mocking me.

I stand up. "Yeah, well, you got lucky. That won't mean much in the arena."

"Oh, really?" Clove smirks. She walks closer to me, and stands so close that we're nearly touching. "That's funny, since you got the same score."

"Ooh, the sexual tension in here!" Enobaria hoots, fanning herself. I glower at her.

"Everyone, please! Sit down and keep quiet! You're missing the scores!" Magnus shouts.

I sit back down in a huff, and watch a nine appear under Thresh's name. How the hell did he get a lower score than Clove? Whatever she did in her session must have been pretty impressive to tie with me. The girl from District Eleven somehow scores a seven, and the boy from District Twelve manages an eight. I'm wondering what he did to tie with Glimmer when my thoughts are interrupted by the eleven flashing under the girl from District Twelve's name.

"What the hell is this?" I roar.

"That would be an eleven. It's one more than ten, and one less then twelve," Clove says.

I slowly turn my head to her. "You sure you wanna do this? You sure you wanna get me even madder? Seeing you pull a ten was one thing. Seeing that Fire Bitch pull an eleven has me more pissed than I've been in a while. You sure you wanna see if you can manage to get me so mad that I'll tear your tiny little head off?"

"Now, Cato," Magnus starts.

"You too? You wanna piss me off too?"

"Why, not at all! Quite the opposite," Magnus says, terrified.

I'm about to stand up and punch the hell out of him when Clove puts her hand on my arm gingerly. I turn to her, about to wring her neck, when she says, "Cato, you're looking at this all wrong. So, she got an eleven. It just means she'll be that much more of a target!"

"But the sponsors," I hiss. Sponsors drool over the tribute with the highest score, which should have been me.

"No one's going to sponsor her just because she got an eleven. She has to be likeable, and if you haven't noticed, no one likes her. She's just a miserable girl who openly despises being here."

I consider this. She's probably right. Without admitting straight out that she's right, I say, "If you're wrong, I'll give you such an excruciating death—"

"Like you won't anyway," Clove smirks.

Defeated, I mumble, "I'm going to bed."

I walk to my room, and hear that song playing again.

_'Cause there'll be no sunlight  
>If I lose you, baby<br>There'll be no clear skies  
>If I lose you, baby<br>Just like the clouds  
>My eyes will do the same, if you walk away<br>Everyday it will rain, rain, rain_

I go into the shower, and find myself singing along. What the hell has gotten into me? Yeah, sometimes I'll hum along, but full-out singing? Oh, what the hell. Why not? I belt out the words, since it's one of the few songs I know the words to. As a matter of fact, it's probably the only song I know by heart, from it playing over and over again in my room here in the Capitol. Back in District 2, there wasn't much need for music. Only for singing lullabies to young children, or old folk songs that workers sing in the quarries. But there are no songs with actual music; just voices.

I settle down into bed, the song still playing over the speakers in my room. I replay the image of the ten dancing on the television screen under my picture over and over in my head until I fall asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Note from the author: **Thanks to everyone who's been reading, favoriting, and subscribing to my story!_

_It's been a while since I've updated, and I deeply apologize for the long wait. Thank you all for your patience!_

_Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins, so I (unfortunately) do not own the Hunger Games._

* * *

><p><strong>CLOVE<strong>

"Clove! Wake up! We've got a lot to cover and only four hours to cover it!" Magnus buzzes.

I open my eyes and see him right in front of my face. I gasp, and he stumbles backwards.

"You might want to brush your teeth before we begin," he says as politely as he can.

"Let me wake up," I slur. "I need to wake up to actually comprehend what you're saying."

I rub my eyes, stretch, and saunter into the bathroom. I brush my teeth and shower. I walk back into my room with just a towel on and scream when I see that Magnus is still in the room.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do hurry up, Clove. It's a quarter to eight and we only have four hours to go through everything."

"Four hours?" I splutter.

"Yes, I think there should be more time, but we'll just have to work with what we're given now, won't we?" Magnus says. "Don't bother picking out clothes from your closet. There's an outfit for you to wear on your bed here."

On the bed is an unbelievably puffy yellow dress and sky-high red shoes. I scowl at the sight of the outfit.

"Oh, _ew_. Is that what Tertia has me wearing?" I ask Magnus.

"No, no. I ordered these for you to practice in," he explains.

"To practice _what_ in?" I scoff. I really hope I won't have to try to throw knives or something in that outfit.

"Your appearance, dear. The tributes' interviews with Caesar are tomorrow night, you know."

Oh damn. I totally forgot about the interview. Why hadn't anyone told me earlier that it was tomorrow night? I really have to talk strategy with Enobaria. I have no idea how to act. I'm probably awful in front of a camera. I think back to the reaping and how I caught poor little Felix. I shouldn't have done that, especially in front of the whole country. But those damn cameras made me act wonky and unlike myself. I hope I don't appear soft and selfless again in my interview.

I change into that ugly outfit and Magnus helps teach me how to walk in the heels.

"I don't think the heels Tertia will put you in will be quite this tall, but it's better to be safe than sorry," Magnus says.

Two twisted ankles later, we give up on the heels and practice sitting down in the dress. The dress is short sleeved with a modest neckline, and falls to the middle of my shins. Yes, it really is as ugly as it sounds.

Magnus has me stand up, sit down. Stand up, sit down. Stand up, sit down. I must smooth the dress under my butt before I sit down. When I'm sitting, I must have my hands folded neatly in my lap. When I somewhat master that, we move on to my posture. Magnus has me walk around with a book on my head, making sure it doesn't fall off. When I circle around the room without it falling off, Magnus lets out a small cheer. It's my best work all day, he tells me. We get done with five minutes to spare before I move on to Enobaria, so I make sure I change before Enobaria catches me in this get-up.

Magnus and I head to the dining room for lunch. We make small talk until Cato saunters in and plops down in his usual seat.

"What's up with you?" I ask Cato.

"Oh, not much," he says, a smile beginning to spread across his face. "Just looking forward to the interviews tonight."

We eat the rest of our lunch in silence. Enobaria walks into the dining room just as I'm finishing eating.

"Good, you're almost done. We're gonna head into my room to work on your angle," she says.

"My what?"

"Your interview angle," Enobaria, Cato, and Magnus all answer in unison.

This makes me feel stupid and naïve. "Let's go," I growl, tossing my napkin down on my plate. I brush past Enobaria and head for her room.

"I think your angle can be hostile," I hear Enobaria call from behind me. "You're doing a good job right now."

I throw open the door to her room and sit down in the chair at the table where she and I ate breakfast the other day. She takes her seat and leans forward. She puts her elbows on the table, crosses her arms, and begins to stare at me. I sit there uneasily for about a minute or two before I explode.

"What, what? What are staring at me for?" I yell.

"I'm trying to think. Now shut up," she tells me calmly.

I sit back in my chair and exhale. I start picking at my perfectly polished nails. They won't be perfect for too much longer if I keep picking at them. I stop when I realize it will just take my prep team that much longer to redo them, and I really don't have the patience to go through that.

"Alright," Enobaria finally says.

"What?"

"I've figured out a few angles I can try," she explains, scribbling something down on a notepad in front of her. "There's my original idea of hostile, which would be the obvious thing to do. There's also witty, which is sort of a long-shot, since the only time you're witty is when you're hostile. I don't want you to overdo being witty, though, which I think would happen. There's also superiority, which I think you could definitely pull off. You have that sort of air about you that makes you seem like you're above it all. That could probably work for you. There's also confidence, which might be a little overdone, but never fails to bring in sponsors."

"Well, I want to bring in sponsors," I tell her.

"I know. That's why we're trying to figure out the best approach," Enobaria says slowly.

I scowl and fold my arms across my body. "Why are you treating me like this?"

"Because if you're going to say stupid things, I'll treat you like you're stupid," she retorts.

"So you think I'm stupid?" I accuse.

"Clove, in all honesty, no. You're not stupid. You just… you have your moments. That's all."

I don't really know what she means, which makes me feel even more stupid, which I know I'm not. Determined to move on, I say, "Well, whatever. How will we find out what approach I'll take?"

"We'll test each one. I'll be Caesar and ask you questions, and you'll be Hostile Clove, Witty Clove, Superior Clove, or Confident Clove," she explains, handing me the notepad. Written in loopy handwriting is each of my four possible angles.

I look up at Enobaria. "What was your angle?"

She lets out a short laugh. "I was wicked. Merciless. It didn't prove much to the sponsors, because I was just a lanky girl who thought she was vicious. But once they saw that I wasn't kidding, the gifts rolled in."

I try to remember Enobaria in her Games. I don't remember her interview at all, and I have a hard time trying to picture her as a gangly, awkward teenager. I honestly can't picture her young at all. I was only about four years old when she won her Games.

"I don't really remember your Games," I admit.

"If you're interested, you can watch them in the sitting room when you have time. I couldn't bear to watch them, though. If you win this year, you'll understand."

Enobaria takes back the notepad. "Let's get started. The sooner we figure out your angle, the sooner you can do whatever you want until 4o'clock."

We begin testing the approaches. I'm a little too small to be taken seriously in my hostile approach. I don't have much wit without being hostile, so that rules out witty. I try to act superior and above it all, but Enobaria says I don't do a good job pulling it off. Finally, we try our last option, confidence. I realize in order to be confident, I just need to be my regular self. The confident approach works. I've thrown in a sprinkle of arrogance and a dash of brutality, and not only is it successful, but it's effortless.

It's only taken us three hours to effectively find my interview angle, but it's flawless.

"You're golden, Clove. I know I said that the confident angle is overdone, but you have a fresh, new approach to it. I'm very pleased," Enobaria tells me, smiling.

I return the smile. "Thanks."

I leave and head for the sitting room. I find the remote control for the television and press the "power" button. A screen appears, asking me what I'd like to watch. There are several categories, which include Capitol News, Documentaries, Music, and Past Hunger Games Highlights. I select the last category, and I'm given more options: Games by Year, Games by District, and Games by Victor's Last Name. Since I don't know Enobaria's last name, I rule out that option. If I venture into the District category, I'll be tempted to watch all of District Two's Games, and I don't have the time for that. I select the first option, and scroll down to the 62nd Hunger Games.

The Capitol seal appears and the anthem plays. The seal fades out and words appear on the screen, with Claudius Templesmith's voice narrating.

"You are about to partake in the viewing of the 62nd Hunger Games. Prepare to watch the highlights of the Games as we follow our victor, Enobaria. Enjoy."

The words fade off the screen and District Two's town square appears on the screen. The stage is set up for the reaping, and the crowd is pulsing with impatience. Magnus appears on the screen, looking eons younger, even though this was only twelve years ago. He digs his hand around in the glass ball and selects a slip of paper. "Avena Lucian."

My eyes bug out of my head and my jaw drops. My mother's maiden name was Lucian. And her little sister's name is Avena. My aunt was reaped for the Hunger Games. Enobaria's Hunger Games. Enobaria saved my aunt's life.

Aunt Avena takes her place on the stage. She looks just like Mom, with her hazel eyes and black hair, but Avena is smaller. Skinnier. Not as strong. She and my mother are ten years apart, with two brothers in between them. Avena was the baby of the family, and never trained for the Games. She was obviously ill-prepared, even though she was 18 years old at the time.

Avena fidgets a little as Magnus asks for volunteers. You can tell she's worried that no one will volunteer. Her face floods with relief as a shout of "I volunteer!" breaks the silence in the square.

Enobaria comes into view. She really is as lanky and awkward as she said she was. She introduces herself, then the scene cuts to the Opening Ceremonies. She rides through the Capitol on her chariot, waving and grinning. She lacks the golden fangs she now has, and has crooked, gapped teeth. She and her District partner are dressed as bricks. Really. And Cato complained about his outfit being unflattering.

The scene cuts to her interview with Caesar Flickerman. I make sure to pay close attention to this, since she seemed pretty proud of it.

Enobaria takes her seat next to Caesar and she makes an attempt at what she thought was a menacing smirk, but looks more like a grimace. _Is that what I look like?_ I think.

"So, Enobaria," Caesar begins. "You've volunteered yourself to join us here. To be quite honest, you don't appear to be the strongest tribute here. Tell us why you think you can win."

"That's easy, Caesar," she purrs. "Though I may be underestimated, I won't hesitate to kill."

"Your training score reflects that. How did you manage to receive a nine?"

"Well, I'm very versatile with weapons. I can use almost anything to kill," Enobaria replies.

"What are you watching?"

I whip my head around to my left and see Cato standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

"Oh, just Enobaria's Games," I tell him.

"Is that her?" he asks in disbelief.

"Yeah, believe it or not."

"Clove, Clove!" I hear Magnus shouting behind Cato. "Clove!"

Cato steps aside and Magnus comes running in.

"Oh, there you are," he says, out of breath. "We're having an early dinner tonight at four. It's 3:55 now, so let's go in the dining room and take our seats."

I look over at Cato, who is glaring at Magnus. Obviously, he's had his fill of the man for the day. Cato looks back at me. I give him a questioning look, but he just shakes his head in return.

We follow Magnus into the dining room and take our seats. Enobaria and Antonius come in within minutes, but apparently it's not soon enough.

"It's 4:02! I told you both that we were going to have dinner at 4o'clock sharp!" Magnus shrieks.

"Know what, Magnus?" Enobaria growls. "You can take your watch and your schedule and shove them."

Magnus mutters something about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks.

We eat the rest of our dinner in silence. When we finish the main course, Magnus pulls an Avox over.

"No dessert for these two tonight," he tells her.

"What?" I yell.

"I'm sorry, but your outfits for tomorrow are perfectly altered. I can't allow you to gain any more weight than you already have," he explains.

"Oh, like a slice of blueberry pie will make me gain ten pounds," I retort.

"Better safe than sorry."

"That's not what your mom said last night," Cato guffaws.

Enobaria falls off her chair from laughter and Magnus' face turns red with anger.

"That is enough! Dinner is finished for everyone! All four of you are sentenced to your rooms for the night! No exceptions!" Magnus snaps. I've never seen the man this angry before, and I realize that I should probably take him seriously when I see the others filing out of the room.

When we're out of earshot, I say, "Are we really going to listen to him?"

"If you want, go ahead. But Tony and I are going to a mentors-only party tonight to mingle and maybe even run into some sponsors," Enobaria tells us.

"You won't get caught?" I ask.

"Clove, I'm thirty years old. I didn't even listen to the man when I was eighteen. If you want to be a good girl, obey big bad Magnus. I don't care," she says.

"What is there to do around here?" I inquire.

"Well, you can't leave the floor without permission, but you can watch TV, eat dessert in your room, spend some quality time with Cato…" she trails off.

Cato and I stop dead in our tracks.

"Oh, come on! You think we don't know?" she laughs. "Don't worry; it's a secret between us four that won't leave this floor. I promise."

I purse my lips and glare at her.

"Well," Antonius says as we approach the mentors' rooms. "We'll be gone for the night. So good luck with Magnus, and don't get caught."

Whether he means don't get caught out of our rooms or don't get caught making out, no one asks. Antonius and Enobaria depart to their rooms, leaving Cato and me alone. I storm off to my room before either of us can say a word and eat slices upon slices of pie until I fall asleep with a fork in my hand.

**CATO**

"Cato, come on!"

I open my eyes to see Antonius tearing the comforter off of me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I rasp.

"It's eight o'clock. You've overslept. Better get ready if you want to talk strategy for your interview tomorrow night."

The interview with Caesar Flickerman is tomorrow night? Makes sense, I guess. I've been in the Capitol for almost a week now.

I roll out of bed and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and fix my hair. When I walk back into my room, Antonius is still there.

"Alright, let's get started," he says. "So, any ideas for your interview angle?"

"That's your job, not mine," I reply.

"Well, you'll have to put some effort into this if you want your interview to go well. I really don't know much about you to come up with an angle. All I know is that you're some big strong kid from District 2 who volunteered himself to be here," he tells me.

I see his point. I haven't really spoken to him too much for him to get to know me.

"Fine. What are some of the usual angles the tributes do?" I offer.

"Typically, the kids from District 2 do something along the lines of brutal, ruthless, excited, superior…" he trails off.

"I think brutal and ruthless will work just fine," I tell him.

He asks me questions, pretending to be Caesar, and I answer them as best as I can.

"You got it, kid. You're a ruthless killing machine," Antonius says.

By the time we're done, he sends me off to the dining room to eat lunch. I walk in and see Clove and Magnus already eating. I sit down in my usual seat, and both of them look at me strangely. I'm still in my pajamas: a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. I look at Clove next to me.

"What's up with you?" she asks me. I'm not sure if she means this as an accusation of weird behavior or genuine small talk. Her expression offers no hint.

"Oh, not much," I answer, smiling. "Just looking forward to the interviews tonight."

No one speaks for the duration of the meal. Enobaria breaks the silence when walks into the dining room.

"Good, you're almost done," she says to Clove. "We're gonna head into my room to work on your angle."

"My what?" Clove asks, confused.

"Your interview angle," Enobaria, Magnus, and I all respond in harmony.

This brings a scowl to Clove's face, though I'm not sure why. "Let's go," she hisses, tossing her napkin down. She slides past Enobaria swiftly.

"I think your angle can be hostile," Enobaria shouts after her. "You're doing a good job right now."

I look over at Magnus, who's shaking his head. "She's quite the firecracker." I don't know what a firecracker is or whether he's referring to Enobaria or Clove. "Are you almost done?"

I nod in response, swallowing the last of my beef stew.

"Great. Let's go to your room. We've only got four hours," he tells me.

"Four hours?" I shout.

"Clove had the same reaction. I know it's not a lot of time, but I'm sure we'll make the best of it," he grins.

I have no idea what I'm in for, or if I'll be able to tolerate this. "I'm not sure if I can spend four hours straight with you. You're very unbearable."

"You, sir, need to learn to filter your thoughts," Magnus tells me. "You're lucky my feelings aren't hurt easily."

We go to my room and find a suit and tie lying on my bed.

"Change into that and we'll work from there," Magnus instructs. He steps into the hall and shuts the door. I change and open the door to let him back in.

"Very good!" he chirps. "Now I'd like you to sit down in that chair next to your bed."

I sit down as I normally would, but apparently, it's not good enough for Magnus.

"No, no, NO!" he cries. "Watch me."

He calmly walks over to the chair, tugs at his pants near his thighs, and sits down.

"You see, Cato, you must pull up the pants at the thigh so there are no wrinkles," he explains.

"Magnus, I know how to sit," I tell him.

"Evidently not," he retorts. "Now sit down."

I sit the same way I did before.

"NO!" he yells. "Sit like a gentleman!"

I refuse. I sit all different ways for probably an hour. I can tell Magnus' patience is wearing thin.

"Alright, forget it. Sit how you want," Magnus snaps. "Let's move on."

He teaches me how to maintain eye contact throughout the interview, but not constant eye contact or it will be too awkward. That takes another hour.

He moves on to facial expressions, but since my approach is ruthless, there are sarcastic smiles and sinister laughs. He doesn't teach me these things; I just need to know when to utilize them. He instructs me to keep my chin up as much as possible, to appear arrogant. This is one piece of advice of his that I'll take.

Finally, it's 3:00, and Magnus dismisses me to get ready for dinner. I shower and dress in a nice shirt and pants, and head off to the dining room. There's no one there yet, but I hear noise from the sitting room. I walk through the doorway and see Clove watching what appears to be an interview from some past Hunger Games.

"What are you watching?" I ask her.

She whizzes her head around and looks at me, startled. She relaxes somewhat when she sees that it's me.

"Oh, just Enobaria's Games," she informs me.

"Is that her?" I see a gangly, awkward teenage girl on the screen.

"Yeah, believe it or not."

"Clove, Clove!" I hear Magnus shouting from the hallway behind me. "Clove!"

I step aside just in time for Magnus to come sprinting into the sitting room.

"Oh, there you are," he says, huffing and puffing. "We're having an early dinner tonight at four. It's 3:55 now, so let's go in the dining room and take our seats."

I look down at him and scowl as he walks into the dining room. Leave it to Magnus to further annoy me. Clove sees my glare and gives me a questioning look, but I shake my head in response.

Clove and I walk into the dining room and take our usual seats. I'm ready to eat, but of course we must wait for our mentors, who come about five minutes later.

"It's 4:02! I told you both that we were going to have dinner at 4o'clock sharp!" Magnus shrieks.

"Know what, Magnus?" Enobaria growls. "You can take your watch and your schedule and shove them."

Magnus grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, likely cursing her out.

Dinner is filled with an awkward silence. The only sound made is chewing, swallowing, and the clanking of silverware on the plates.

Magnus breaks the silence when we are almost finished eating by telling an Avox, "No dessert for these two tonight."

"What?" Clove shrieks.

"I'm sorry, but your outfits for tomorrow are perfectly altered. I can't allow you to gain any more weight than you already have," he tells her.

"Oh, like a slice of blueberry pie will make me gain ten pounds," she hisses.

"Better safe than sorry," Magnus says as calmly as possible.

"That's not what your mom said last night," I spurt.

Enobaria tips over in her chair and I can tell this is it for Magnus.

"That is enough!" he hollers. "Dinner is finished for everyone! All four of you are sentenced to your rooms for the night! No exceptions!"

The four of us file out of the dining room. As soon as we round the first turn in the hallway, Clove asks, "Are we really going to listen to him?"

"If you want, go ahead. But Tony and I are going to a mentors-only party tonight to mingle and maybe even run into some sponsors," Enobaria says.

"You won't get caught?" Clove wonders.

"Clove, I'm thirty years old. I didn't even listen to the man when I was eighteen. If you want to be a good girl, obey big bad Magnus. I don't care," Enobaria waves her off.

"What is there to do around here?" Clove questions.

"Well, you can't leave the floor without permission, but you can watch TV, eat dessert in your room, spend some quality time with Cato…" Enobaria fades.

Clove and I freeze.

"Oh, come on! You think we don't know?" she laughs. "Don't worry; it's a secret between us four that won't leave this floor. I promise."

My jaw is lying on the ground, and I pick it up and compose myself.

"Well," Antonius begins as he opens the door to his room. "We'll be gone for the night. So good luck with Magnus, and don't get caught."

I'm not sure what he means, but before I can say another word, his door is shut and Clove is stomping off to her room.

**CLOVE**

I'm woken early the next morning and am beautified by my prep team. Not much work has to be done, they say, except bathing me, painting my nails, smoothing my skin, stenciling my arms, fixing my hair into some "fabulous up-do," powdering my face, outlining my eyes and putting a gold powder on the lids, gluing fake eyelashes, making my cheeks rosy with some red powder, and making my lips blood red. Not much work at all.

When they're done, Tertia walks in with a white bag on a hanger.

"Don't look," she says as she walks in.

I look up at the ceiling and feel a dress being carefully put on my body. Tertia zips the back up, then puts high heels on my feet, but not as high as the ugly red ones Magnus had me in yesterday.

"Can I look in the mirror?" I ask her.

"I won't let you see your reflection until you're all done."

She adjusts my dress and rubs her thumb on my chin to blend the makeup.

"Okay," she smiles.

I turn around and see myself in the mirror, and I can honestly say I've never looked more beautiful.

I look at my hair, which really does look fabulous, my eyes, which look extra piercing with the gold on my eyelids and long fake eyelashes. I smile and see my deadly lips, which look like I've just drank someone's blood. I look down at my body and find a short gold strapless dress that looks like metal and is decorated with metallic leaves, swirls, and gold gems. My shoes match perfectly. I look…stunning. Amazing. Ridiculously beautiful.

"Tertia," I breathe. "Thank you. I'm…I look…"

"You're gorgeous, Clove. You'll have sponsors throwing themselves at you," she beams. "It's time to go."

**CATO**

As Fausta fixes my gold tie, I look at myself in the mirror behind her.

"You clean up nicely," she tells me.

"Thanks," I say.

"We better get going," Fausta instructs.

I walk over to the door and open it to find Tertia and Clove opening Clove's door. Clove takes one step into the hallway and looks up to see me. At least, I think it's Clove.

In front of me is a young woman with dark, shiny hair pulled up on her head. Her piercing blue-gray eyes are highlighted with gold and long eyelashes. Her bloody red lips spread into a small smile at the sight of me. Her dress…hot damn, her dress barely covers her body. It's a shiny gold dress that has no straps or sleeves holding it on her body and stops mid-thigh. She looks like a trophy, a prize that I want to win so badly. I look back up at her face. We make eye contact, and she blushes and looks at the ground. I want to tell her how she looks, but my lips are unable to form words. Never in my life have I seen something so stunning.

**CLOVE**

Tertia and I step out the door to my room, just as Cato and Fausta are leaving his room. Cato and I freeze in each other's presence. His hair is perfectly coifed, his eyes twinkle as they did when I kissed him just nights ago. He wears a black dress shirt, a gold tie, and a dark blue suit. I look back up at his face and see that he is gawking at me. I blush, embarrassed and look down at the floor. I look back up and see Fausta smiling and looking behind me at Tertia, though I'm not sure why.

"Come on kids," Tertia says. "Don't want to be late."

I snap back to reality and head for the elevator. I step inside with Tertia, while Fausta tugs Cato down the hall. He stands next to me in the elevator, and I can feel him tense up as I accidentally brush his hand with mine.

"Sorry," I tell him.

Magnus, Enobaria, and Antonius join us on the elevator.

"You guys look _hot_," Enobaria complements.

I thank her, but Cato says nothing.

"I think you two will be the best-looking tributes out there!" Magnus chirps.

The elevator shoots down to the ground floor, and Cato and I are rushed over to join the other tributes. We stand single file, and I stare at the back of Marvel's suit. I sense Cato staring down at me, so I turn around, and find that I was right. He looks off to his left, embarrassed that he was caught looking.

Somewhat jovial, I take advantage of the opportunity to embarrass Cato. "Something wrong with my dress?"

I tug at the dress and he blushes like crazy.

"Not at all," he squeaks. "Looks great."

Before I can comment, it's time to take our places onstage. We walk single-file to our seats, and I smooth the dress out under my butt, which is so short that it barely covers it. I know why Cato was staring.

We take our seats in the semi-circle on the stage. There are two seats in the middle: one for Caesar and the other for whatever tribute's turn it is.

Caesar skips out onto the stage, and the crowd goes wild. He makes a few quick jokes, then begins with the interviews.

Glimmer bounces her way to center stage. She tosses a long lock of golden hair over her shoulder as the heart of every man in Panem beats faster. Her emerald eyes are accentuated, and her body is exposed in a see-through gold gown.

I don't listen much to her interview or Marvel's for that matter. All I listen for is the buzzer to sound, signaling my turn.

When I hear it, I strut confidently onto the stage as Caesar introduces me. We sit down in our seats and Caesar begins his questions.

"So, Clove," he says. "You're from District Two. Tell me, is the Capitol as great as you expected?"

"Absolutely, Caesar. I love it here. Everything is so wonderful. I can't wait to come back here after I win."

"You're pretty confident, yes?" Caesar asks.

"Of course. I have no reason not to be. I'm as skilled as a tribute can possibly be," I answer.

"Well, you look pretty young. How old are you?"

"Sixteen. But don't treat me any differently than you would an eighteen year-old," I tell him.

"I wouldn't dare!" he assures me. "Tell us, how did you feel when you were reaped?"

"I was honored to be reaped, Caesar. I probably would have volunteered even if someone else was reaped."

"Were you surprised that no one older volunteered to take your place?"

"Yes, I was a little shocked, since everyone in District Two is so eager to win the Games. But I realized that no one volunteered because I was the District's best chance of getting a victor."

"I think you've got a great chance. Don't you, folks?"

I hear applause, and know that I've said all the right things.

The buzzer sounds, and I shake Caesar's hand. I head back to my seat and wink at Cato, who's standing up to join Caesar. He starts to smile, then looks away as he walks past me.

I look around quickly to find almost half of the boys gawking at me. I feel flattered, and even a little flustered. I take my seat and pay little attention to the rest of the interviews. All I can tell is that Mort is loveable, the District 5 girl is mysterious, the girl from 11 is sweet, Thresh is sullen, and Fire Girl—ugh! She looks unbelievably gorgeous tonight as well. Whatever lasting beauty I had in the minds of the viewers and sponsors dissolved the moment she stood up. Her interview, however, goes horribly as she twirls around like a child in her dress that–of course—looks like fire. She talks briefly about her little sister, but her time is up before she can say anything of substance.

The boy from her District takes his turn with Caesar, making the audience laugh and clap. I begin to pay more attention to his interview now, since it is the last one of the night.

"So, Peeta, tell me. Is there a special girl back home?" Caesar asks.

He opens his mouth to say something, then shakes his head.

"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" Caesar prods.

Peeta takes a deep breath. "Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

Oh, boo hoo. Why did I decide to pay attention to his of all interviews?

"So, here's what you do," Caesar begins. "You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?"

Peeta shakes his head. "I don't think it's going to work out. Winning…won't help in my case."

"Why ever not?"

"Because…because…she came here with me."

I see Cato punch the arm of his chair out of the corner of my eye, but I have no idea why. Is he jealous of Peeta? Maybe.

The buzzer goes off and Peeta returns to his seat. We all rise for the anthem, then file back off the stage into the lobby of the Training Center. The tributes scatter onto the elevators. I'm about to head for one, when I feel a tug on my arm. I turn around to find Cato looking down at me.

"That should have been us," Cato says.

"What?"

"We could have been like the tributes from 12. Star-crossed lovers. Think about all those romantic fools who will sponsor them!" he tries to whisper.

I do think about it. It's a very good strategy that's never been done before. But the look on Peeta's face makes me think his love for Fire Girl is very real.

"If he loves her, he loves her. I don't know what you're trying to get at," I tell him.

"Whatever. Just forget it. I mean, what's done is done," he huffs.

We board an elevator with the boy from Eight and the girl from Ten and head up to our floor. Cato and I are dropped off, and as soon as we're in the hallway, he stops me.

"You look really beautiful tonight, Clove," he tells me.

"I thought you were giving up on the whole star-crossed lover thing," I snap.

"I did. I'm being honest. You look really good," he complements. "That dress is hot."

"Thanks," I blush. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Thanks."

He takes my hand and walks me to my room. I open the door and turn to say goodbye. He bends down and gives me a small, slow kiss. When he pulls away, his lips are red from my lipstick.

"I had to do that, just once tonight," he whispers. "Goodnight, Clove."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Another note from the author:<em>**_I know this chapter was a little "all over the place" in terms of POV, but I think it needed to be done to limit the boring repetition of when Cato and Clove are together._

_I feel the need to let you guys know that I cried a little at the second to last paragraph when I was reading this over. Bless my poor shipper heart. :')_

_**P.S.:** to anyone who wants to know what my inspiration for Clove's dress was, the link is on my profile! :)_


	10. Chapter 10

**_A/N: _**_Sorry for the really short chapter this time, guys. I really want to stick to the pace of the chapters in the book, and I also wanted to leave you with a bit of a cliffhanger. It's only Clove's POV this time to prevent monotony. I still hope you all enjoy it! :)_

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><p><strong>CLOVE<strong>

I wake up in a meadow, surrounded by flowers in every color imaginable. I hear birds chirp from the trees in the distance. I sit up and find that I'm in my sage green reaping dress, but am missing my shoes. I reach up to my hair and find it loosely pulled back in a ribbon. I stand up and see a bird flying above me. It's a large, majestic maroon thing with grand wings. It swoops down and picks me up with its feet. We fly high above the meadow, over a forest, and begin to descend on a sandy beach. The bird places me down on the sand.

"Lie down," it tells me in a familiar voice. "Relax."

I obey it and close my eyes and breathe in the warm sea air. When I reopen my eyes, the bird is straddling me, holding down my arms with hands that appeared at the ends of its wings. I look into its eyes. They're blue with flecks of green, gray, and brown. Blue-hazel. Blue-hazel! I only know one person with those eyes.

I begin to struggle to break free of his grasp, but it's no use. He's much stronger than I am, and almost twice my size. He cackles maniacally.

"Clove, Clove, Clove. When will you learn?" he purrs.

The bird opens his mouth to reveal his shiny, razor-sharp teeth.

"Cato, please! Stop!" I plead.

Just as he sinks his teeth into my chest, I wake up.

My face is streaked with tears and sweat, and my throat is slightly sore from screaming. My pillow is soaking wet, so I throw it far across the room. My door flies open, and I'm greeted with the fury on Enobaria's face.

"Clove. It's two-thirty in the morning. Your sedative shouldn't have run out already," she hisses.

"My sedative?" I rasp, confused.

"I ordered it so you'd get a full night's sleep. You'll need all the sleep you can get now. I don't know how easily it will come in the arena," she tells me. "I guess I'll have to order you another."

"No!" I shout. "No. I'd rather get no sleep than have to deal with more nightmares."

"Get used to it, kid," Enobaria shakes her head as she turns to the door.

"Wait!" I call. She turns around. "Will I see you tomorrow morning?"

"No, you'll be woken in about an hour or two by Tertia and head off for the arena right away," she says.

This might be the last time I see her. Scratch that, this will be the last time I see her as a mere tribute. The next time I see her, I'll be the victor.

"Any last advice?" I ask.

She pauses, then says, "Always sleep with one eye open. You never know what you'll encounter out there."

I smile a little. "Thanks, Enobaria."

She nods and heads for the door. Before she leaves, she turns to me one last time. "Good luck out there, kid. I'll see you in a few weeks?"

"Count on it."

I'm woken shortly by Tertia. We travel up to the roof just as the hovercraft appears. I grab onto the ladder and am frozen in place. I'm raised into the craft and try to move, but still can't. I try to say something, anything, but my mouth can't move an inch.

A man dressed in white walks over to me and sticks a needle in my arm.

"I'm inserting your tracker, Clove. It will help us find you in the arena," he tells me. I feel the cool metal lump crawl its way into my arm.

He takes the needle out of my arm and the ladder unfreezes me. Tertia boards the hovercraft and we're taken to a room for breakfast. I eat as much as I can without becoming sick, because for all I know, there might not be any food at all in the arena. I'm beginning to regret not spending much time at the survival stations during training.

The windows around me black out and the overhead lights come on. Tertia leads me over to the ladder, because we are approaching the arena. The hovercraft lands and we descend down under the arena, into the catacombs to dress and prepare for launch.

Tertia takes me to my Launch Room, where I shower, brush my teeth, and Tertia does my hair.

"I'm giving you the same braids Cato did for you before your session with the Gamemakers," Tertia tells me nonchalantly.

My stomach churns and flops around. "How…how did you know—?"

"Clove, don't worry about it. You have much greater concerns right now," she cuts me off.

Tertia finishes the little braids and fixes my hair into a sleek ponytail. She pulls out the outfit I'm to wear and helps me put it on.

"Do you have a district token?" she asks as she fixes my jacket.

I shake my head no. What would I have brought anyway? I have nothing that's important enough to carry into the Hunger Games.

"Do you want more food?" she asks.

"No."

"A drink?"

"No."

"Alright."

We sit in a slightly uncomfortable silence until a female voice announces that we must prepare for launch. Tertia walks me over to the metal plate across the room.

"Now, Clove, I expect you to make it back," she tells me. "Make sure you put on a good show out there. Have fun."

"Oh, I will," I assure her with a smirk.

A glass cylinder surrounds me. Tertia waves goodbye, and I'm taken up to the arena.

It's incredibly bright and sunny out, and my eyes adjust to find that I'm perfectly placed, the mouth of the Cornucopia directly facing me. Its weapons and supplies overflow out of it. There are knives scattered around the mouth, and I plan on owning all of them. I look around at the tributes, some positioning their feet to run to the Cornucopia, others ready to book it out of here.

The gong sounds, and all hell breaks loose.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N:** Hello, lovely readers! I've updated quickly this time because we're finally in the Games! I think you'll all like this chapter, since there's finally a some action and a little violence. I'll try to update quickly again, but no promises since I have finals next week. Until then, enjoy! :)_

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Hunger Games. The passages used from the book were used to make my story seem canon. So chill, okay?_

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><p><strong>CLOVE<strong>

My feet pound against the hard-packed earth beneath me. I'm one of the first to reach the Cornucopia, thanks to my speed. I grab as many knives as I can, and begin my attack.

I throw my knife at the nearest tribute, the girl from Six. It hits her right in the heart, killing her instantly. _The first kill of the Games_, I think to myself and smirk.

All around me, I hear screams of dying tributes, the clash of metal on metal, and the wicked laughter escaping my lips as I find my next target, the boy from Nine. He's struggling over an orange backpack with someone else, though I'm not sure who. As my knife enters his back, I see him spew blood out of his mouth at the face of the tribute fighting him for the pack. As the boy slips to the ground, I see who was fighting him. Fire Girl. I throw my knife straight at her head as she runs away, slipping the backpack on her shoulders. Anticipating my throw, she pulls the pack up behind her head, saving her life and stealing my knife.

_She'll pay for this_, I think as I hit my next target, the girl from Ten.

**CATO**

As soon as the gong sounds, I head straight for the heart of the supplies, to my swords and spears. I pick up the first sword I reach and spin around. I see a tribute, the girl from Six, drop to the ground, a knife in her heart. Nearby, Clove smirks triumphantly.

I slice my sword into the stomach of the boy from Five. He slips lifelessly to the ground as I pull my sword out of him. I stab into the back of the girl from Nine, allowing her to have a slow, painful death.

As I pull the sword out, I catch the boy from Three impaling the girl from Seven.

"Hey, kid!" I shout. "You, from Three!"

He turns towards me, spear drawn.

"You any good with traps?" I ask him.

"What's it to you?" he asks, backing away.

"Because, if you set up a trap to protect the remaining supplies from invaders, I'll let you live and join our alliance," I tell him.

"Alright, alright. I'll do what I can," he says. The boy from Seven comes running at the kid from Three, knife drawn, but I shove my sword at him. It jabs Seven in the stomach, and he drops to the ground.

"You're welcome," I tell Three, before turning back to the battle.

**CLOVE**

The bloodbath has ended, and all our supplies have been carried down to our camp near the lake. Marvel, Glimmer, Cato, and I dig holes in the ground around our pyramid of supplies in the exact locations that the boy from Three instructed us. He reactivates the landmines that were originally buried around the plates we rose up on as the Games started. As soon as he's finished with one, it gets buried in one of the strategically-placed holes.

"Where'd Catalina go?" Glimmer asks.

"Checking to make sure we got everything back at the Cornucopia," Cato tells her.

Almost on cue, Catalina returns, with Lover Boy as her prisoner.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Marvel asks.

"I caught him up at the Cornucopia. I promised we'd let him live if he helps us find the Fire Girl. He's a damn good fighter, too. Cut my arm right open with his knife," he explains, and holds out her left forearm. Sure enough, there's a gash about four inches long.

"Alright, Lover Boy," Cato sighs. "Start helping us dig."

Catalina and Lover Boy kneel down and help. Suddenly, I realize something.

"Where's Mort?" I ask.

Everyone looks over at me, then back at the ground.

"Well?" I shout.

"He's gone, Clove," Catalina sighs.

"Who killed him?" I ask.

"Glimmer," Marvel answers.

I glare at Glimmer and she turns back to her work.

"Get over it, okay? He was gonna die sooner or later," she grumbles.

"Is his body still there?" I ask Catalina.

"Should be. It was when I was up there," she shrugs.

"Will someone go up with me?" I ask.

"Marvel will," Glimmer smiles.

He looks over at her. "Why me?"

"Because you owe me for ratting me out," she hisses.

Marvel brushes off his hands and stands up.

We head through the trees in silence. We break into the clearing, and sure enough, all the bodies are still there. I spot tiny little Mort, lying near the far edge of the clearing. We walk over to him, and find him in fetal position, lying in a puddle of his own blood flowing from a wound in his chest.

"I treated him so rottenly the last time I saw him," I say out loud, whether it's to Marvel or myself. "I really shouldn't have. He was just trying to make me feel better. I didn't even get the chance to apologize."

"Would you have?" Marvel asks, startling me.

"Probably not," I admit.

He nods slightly.

I take a deep breath, and we head back to camp.

We enter the forest and begin our small trek, when the sounds of whispering and shuffling to our left stop us dead in our tracks. Marvel positions his spear to throw and I draw one of my knives. We inch slowly towards the source of the noise, sneaking up on our prey, when Marvel drops his spear in shock. I follow his line of view and gasp.

"What the hell?" I shout.

**CATO**

I watch as Clove and Marvel head to the Cornucopia to pay their final respects to Mort, though I'm not sure why. I think Clove's spoken to him once or twice, but the only thing Marvel has in common with the kid is that they're both part of our alliance.

As soon as they're out of sight, Glimmer nudges me.

"Did you hear that?" she asks.

"Hear what?"

"Over there," she points to her right. "It sounded like someone was running. Let's go after them."

I stand up and grab my sword. "Glimmer and I are gonna go check out what that noise was. The rest of you, stay here and keep digging. We should be back shortly," I tell them.

Glimmer and I head for the forest where she heard the noise.

"Where are we headed?" I ask her.

"Not sure," she says. "They could have gone anywhere."

Suddenly she comes to a halt. I stop and turn around. She looks up at me and motions for me to come closer to her. I walk over to her.

"Cato," she whispers as she leans up to me. "We would make a great team."

She grabs my shirt and pulls me into her and her lips crash into mine. She keeps kissing and kissing, but I refuse to kiss back. I can't seem to find the strength to pull away either, but I begin to get angry.

"What the hell?" I hear a female voice yell.

I push Glimmer off of me and see Marvel and Clove, standing thirty yards away.

**CLOVE**

"Glimmer…" Marvel breathes.

"Marvel, you don't understand. He was all over me," Glimmer says.

"What?" Cato bellows. "You're such a liar, Glimmer!"

"How could you?" Marvel shouts. "No wonder you were trying to talk me out of loving her during training. You wanted her all for yourself!"

"Marvel, you know that's not true," Cato says.

"Then what's the truth, Cato?" I ask.

He looks over at me, startled.

"Glimmer said she heard a noise, so we went out to hunt down whatever it was. Then she just stopped walking, pulled me down, and kissed me," he explains.

"Do you even realize how ridiculous that sounds?" Marvel says. He picks up his spear. "You both sicken me." He runs back towards camp, wiping his eyes.

I turn back to the two flustered blondes. "Whatever went on here, I don't want to see it again," I threaten, making sure they see my knife glint in the sunlight.

I turn back to camp, angry. How dare those two turn these Games into some kind of a joke! This isn't the Romance Games; this is the Hunger Games. They need to get over themselves before I kill them both with my bare hands.

I approach camp and find that Catalina and Lover Boy are finishing burying the last of the landmines. They look up and see me stomping back to camp.

"What's wrong? Where's Marvel?" Catalina asks.

"The hell if I know," I mutter.

I sit down on a log nearby. I saw off a piece of it and begin sharpening it with my knife. I keep sawing at it until supper time. We all gather around our fire and eat bread, fruit, crackers, and beef strips.

The sun begins to set, and the fallen tributes are projected high in the sky. The girl from 3, Mort, the boy from 5, both from 6 and 7, the boy from 8, both from 9, and the girl from 10 all make their appearance.

_Eleven down, twelve to go_, I think to myself.

As the anthem finishes, we decide to begin our sleeping shifts.

"Alright, here's how we're gonna do this. Each shift will be three hours long. Marvel, Three, and Lover Boy, you take first watch. Clove and I got second. Glimmer and Catalina, you take third," Cato orders.

"Woah, woah, wait a minute. Why am I on watch with you?" I ask Cato.

"I'll explain later," he says.

"Why are we going to bed so early?" Glimmer asks. "It's probably only around eight o'clock."

"So we can hunt before sunrise," Cato sneers.

We begin pitching our tents. Marvel, Three, and Lover Boy stay out by the campfire, each with a spear in hand, while the rest of us head off to sleep. Much to my dismay, it turns out we sleep in the same tent as our watch partner, so as to not disturb the others when we take our turn. The tents aren't big, so Cato and I must keep our sleeping bags uncomfortably close. I crawl into mine and face away from Cato.

"Hey," he whispers, nudging me.

"What?" I grumble.

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" he asks.

"Let me get some sleep, Cato. We can talk later," I hiss.

I fall asleep shortly later, only to be roused awake by Marvel.

"Cato, Clove, your turn," he says.

We crawl out of our tents and sit around the fire. I pull out a knife from my jacket and begin sharpening it.

"So," I say. "Is there a reason you wanted the same shift as me? Or is it just so you can say you slept with me?"

He chuckles. "I wanted to know why you got so mad earlier."

"When?"

"You know. When you and Marvel saw Glimmer and me in the woods," he clarifies.

"I wasn't mad," I say coolly, keeping my eyes on my knife.

"You definitely were. You said, 'Whatever went on here, I don't want to see it again.' Sounded pretty angry to me," he says.

"You really wanna fight me about this?" I ask, making sure he sees the knife in my hand.

"I'm not fighting. I'm discussing," he says. "Can you discuss with me what your emotions were when you saw me with Glimmer?"

"Annoyed," I tell him.

"Annoyed at what?" he asks, genuinely confused.

I look up from my knife again. "Are you serious? Please. I'm annoyed that you're turning these Games into a joke. This is a competition of strength and skill. Not beauty and love."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" he asks me seriously. "Clove, _she_ kissed _me_. I can't believe you'd take her word over mine."

"Well, you both seemed to be enjoying yourselves. Your argument wasn't very valid. 'Oh, look at me, poor Cato being kissed to death by beautiful Glimmer. I _so_ don't think she's attractive and I'm repulsed by the fact that we're kissing.' Please, Cato. Glimmer's love for Marvel is more believable than your story," I tell him.

"Alright, Clove. Believe what you want," Cato sighs. "I just thought you of all people would believe me."

"Well, you thought wrong."

We sit in silence for the rest of our shift. We wake up Glimmer and Catalina and awkwardly lie in our tent for about a half hour. It's so incredibly cold, even in this tent in such close quarters, that I begin shivering violently.

"You alright?" Cato asks.

"I'm fine, Cato. Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't asleep anyway. Do you need another blanket or something?"

"Don't worry about me. Just keep worrying about yourself," I reply.

"I am worried about myself. I won't be able to get any sleep if I have to hear your teeth chatter all night," he tells me. He reaches into a backpack on the other side of him and pulls out a blanket and spreads it over the two of us.

"Thanks," I grumble, and eventually fall asleep.

About two hours later, Catalina pokes her head in our tent. "Hey, it looks like there's a fire about half a mile away. Wanna go have some fun?"

"I wonder if it's Fire Girl," Cato growls as he crawls out of the tent.

We head off to the site of the fire, leaving Three behind to guard the supplies, just in case the mines don't work. All six of us are deadly quiet as we sneak through the woods. Dawn is about to break, just as we find her, the girl from Eight, the one who set the fire. We wait for the right time to make our move for about fifteen minutes. Finally, she lies down and dozes off. We break out into a run, which startles her. She stands up to run, but Cato's sword pierces right into her back, which triggers a blood-curdling scream. He pulls his sword out and she slinks to the ground, weeping.

"Twelve down and eleven to go!" Cato hoots. We all laugh and cheer in celebration.

I crouch down and flip her body over. She's still breathing for now, but I don't care. I check her for any useful supplies, but come up empty. All she had were fire starters and some crackers.

"Nothing good. Let's move on," I say.

"Yeah, better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking," Cato agrees.

We head off deeper into the woods when I stop dead in my tracks. "Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" I ask.

"I'd say yes," Catalina says. "Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately."

"Unless she isn't dead," I say, turning to Cato.

"She's dead. I stuck her myself," he argues.

"Then where's the cannon?" I counter.

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done," Marvel comments.

"Yeah, we don't want to have to track her down twice," I agree.

"I said she's dead!" Cato hollers.

We all begin arguing amongst ourselves until Lover Boy shouts, "Stop! We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!"

"Go on then, Lover Boy. See for yourself," Cato says.

Lover Boy turns around and walks back to the Eight girl.

"Why don't we just kill him now and get it over with?" Glimmer says as soon as he's out of earshot.

"Let him tag along. What's the harm? And he's handy with that knife," Cato says,

Catalina nods in agreement and looks down at the wound on her arm. "Besides, he's our best chance of finding her," she says.

"Why? You think she bought into that sappy romance stuff?" I ask.

"She might have. Seemed pretty simpleminded to me. Every time I think about her spinning around in that dress, I want to puke," Catalina gags.

"Wish we knew how she got that eleven," Cato growls.

"Bet you Lover Boy knows," Catalina says.

Lover Boy breaks into the clearing behind Catalina.

"Was she dead?" Cato asks.

"No, but she is now," Lover Boy says. The cannon fires on cue. "Ready to move on?"

We break off in a run and head into the woods.


	12. Chapter 12

**CLOVE**

We search for tributes for 3 more hours before deciding to head back to camp for breakfast. I turn around to head back to camp when I hear a giggle. I whip my head around to find Glimmer with her dainty little hand placed on her mouth.

"Where are you going?" she asks me.

"Back to camp," I tell her slowly.

"Obviously not, since camp's this way," she says, pointing south.

"Camp's west from here," I say. I can feel my blood pressure rising by the minute.

"Yeah, west is this way," she replies.

"The sun rises in the east, brainless. Where is the sun right now? East," I say. "Wouldn't you say the logical thing to do is to head farthest away from where the sun is right now?"

"The sun rose like three hours ago. West is clearly that way," she insists.

"Then I guess I'll head 'north,'" I tell her. I stomp off two steps and trip over the root of a tree. My ankle twists and I fall to the ground.

I hear Glimmer and Catalina giggle, and my face turns red with anger and embarrassment.

"You okay?" Lover Boy asks.

"I'm fine," I grumble. I try to stand up, but putting weight on my right ankle sends shockwaves of pain through me.

"You're not fine, Clove," Cato says, walking over to me. "You can't even stand up, can you?"

I try standing up again, but the pain shooting up my leg is too much.

"Come on, I'll carry you," he says, lifting me up.

I don't object, since I don't know how else I'll get back to camp. I'm so angry with myself for tripping. This stupid, careless injury can cost me the Games!

I realize Cato is headed west; the direction I said was west, proving I was right. I peek behind us and see Glimmer glaring up at me. I smile back at her. I'm not sure if she's glaring because I was right, because Cato agreed with me, or because I'm in Cato's arms right now. I'm pretty sure it's all three reasons.

It's about a two hour walk back, and I can tell Cato's beginning to get tired. He's been hauling me in the same position this whole time, and it's starting to take a toll on him.

Glimmer must notice this too since she speeds up to walk next to him on his left side where my feet are. "Aren't you getting tired of carrying her? I mean, carrying nearly 200 pounds for almost two hours must be exhausting," she says.

I kick her in the temple, but it's not a very solid kick. She puts her hand around my right ankle and grips tightly. I let out a small yelp.

"She's probably barely over 100 pounds," Cato says. "I've carried heavier things for longer periods of time."

"You're lucky it wasn't Glimmer who hurt her ankle. You probably wouldn't be able to carry her for more than five minutes," I tell Cato.

Anticipating Glimmer's attack, Cato turns to his right, blocking her hit.

"She's already injured," he says. "Don't need to make things worse."

"So you're taking her side?" she splutters. "She insulted my weight!"

"Yes, after you insulted hers," Cato retorts. "If you want sympathy, talk to Marvel or Catalina."

Cato starts walking again and Glimmer waits for Marvel and Catalina to catch up.

"Why'd you do that?" I ask Cato.

"Do what?" he asks.

"Stand up to her for me. Protect me."

"She's a bitch. You're obviously in pain right now and you don't need a pain in your ass," he says.

"Says the boy who kissed her," I reply.

"I didn't kiss her. I don't know why you refuse to believe me," he says.

"I saw what I saw, Cato," I tell him. "I don't know why it bothers you."

"Me? You're the one who brought it up. It's obviously bothering you if you feel the need to keep talking about it."

"What bothers me is that yesterday she appealed to you and today she's a bitch," I say.

"Whatever, Clove," he sighs.

We approach the camp and Three is sitting on a log, spear in hand.

"What happened?" he asks, gesturing to me.

"She hurt her ankle," Cato explains, setting me down. "Do we have any pain-killing medicine?"

Three leaps around the mines and climbs the pyramid to bring down a little bottle of pain-killers. I take a pill and wash it down with some water. I roll up my pant leg to find it swollen.

Suddenly, a silver parachute floats down and lands on my lap. I open it to find a cold compress. I place it on my ankle and sigh with relief. Then I realize something: I have sponsors.

"Thank you," I say, looking up to the sky.

"Congratulations," Lover Boy says. "Looks like you got some fans in the Capitol."

"Looks like it," I reply.

Glimmer glares at me again, consumed with jealousy.

"What's wrong, Princess?" I ask her. "You mad that the spotlight's not on you?"

She angrily takes a bite out of her dried beef and turns back to Marvel.

We eat our meal and by the time we're done, my ankle's back to normal size and the pain has gone. We head out to hunt again, but come up empty. These tributes are good at hiding.

We go back to camp and eat again, and by the time we're done, the sun has set. The District 8 girl appears in the sky, and we start our sleeping shifts again.

Cato and I crawl into our tent and lie there for a while, unable to sleep.

"Thank you," I say out of the blue.

"What?" Cato asks.

"Don't make me say it again."

"Well, you're the most valuable ally out of everyone here. Couldn't risk you getting hurt," he says.

I smirk a little, proud that Cato thinks that.

I fall asleep moments later, only to be woken up by Marvel. Cato and I crawl out of our tent and head to our spots around the fire.

"I'm hungry," Cato says. "Do you know how to get to the pyramid?"

"Not without Three's guidance," I tell him. "You want me to wake him?"

"Nah, let him sleep, I'm not that hungry," Cato says.

Just then, a squirrel runs across my boot. I flick my knife at it as it scurries away, killing it instantly.

I look over at Cato. "You hungry enough for fresh squirrel meat?"

We roast the squirrel and split it between the two of us. We end up eating the whole thing by the time our shift is over. We wake Glimmer and Catalina up for their turn, and Catalina asks if we cooked something. We lie and say no, which inspires her to grab a net and try to fish at two in the morning.

"If I catch anything, I'll try to save some for you guys, but no promises!" she laughs.

We head back to sleep and wake up three hours later to start hunting tributes. We wander around for about a half hour before a wall of fire ignites in front of us. My heart rate picks up and we run as fast as we can back to camp. Since I'm the fastest of the group, I take the lead. Braches slash my face and arms, and the only thing guiding me along is my sense of direction and night vision goggles, since the sun is not up yet. I can only hope I'm headed towards camp.

I see the tents up ahead and Three is sitting on a log, looking confused.

"What happened out there?" he asks.

We all cough our lungs out from smoke inhalation. Finally, Marvel chokes out, "Wall of fire… Had to run… So much smoke…"

We take drinks of water and sit down for a little while. I look over at the forest where we came from and watch as the wall of fire travels around, almost chasing someone. It probably is. Probably Fire Girl. I smile at the thought.

I hear screams and cries of agony, and the wall extinguishes. No cannon sounds, so the purpose behind the fire must have either been to injure the tributes or—could it be?—to drive the tributes closer to us so we can kill them.

"Did you hear that?" I shout at the others. "People are in pain out there, and it wasn't caused by us. Let's get out there and change that. We've only had one kill since the bloodbath. One! Let's go."

Everyone but Three leaps up and we head back into the woods. We're about fifteen minutes away from camp when we see her. Fire Girl. She hears us coming and begins running, but with a slight limp. She's still fast, but so are we. We chase her for a few minutes before she lunges at a tree and starts climbing. She quickly climbs ten, fifteen, twenty feet before we even reach the tree. The six of us surround the tree. She looks down at us and smiles.

"How's everything with you?" she asks us.

I feel the anger radiating off of Cato next to me. "Well enough," he replies. "Yourself?"

"It's been a bit warm for my taste," Fire Girl says. "The air's better up here. Why don't you come up?"

"I think I will," Cato says.

"Here, take this, Cato," Glimmer purrs, holding out her bow and sheath of arrows. As if Cato would take a bow and arrows over a sword or spear.

"No, I'll do better with my sword," he says, pushing the bow away.

Cato begins climbing the tree, but Fire Girl climbs another thirty feet. We egg Cato on as he scales the tree. He makes it about twenty feet up the tree when the branch he grabs snaps under his weight. He loses his footing and falls, landing hard on his back with a thud. He swears every dirty word I've ever heard, but stops when he hears Glimmer giggling.

"You think it's funny, Glimmer?" Cato yells. "Let's see you try."

"Fine."

She begins climbing the tree, and makes it to the same point as Cato, but once she feels the branches cracking, she stops and climbs back down. Clearly frustrated, she grabs an arrow from her sheath, strings her bow, and shoots at Fire Girl, who is now about eighty feet above the ground. Glimmer's arrow lands in a nearby tree. Fire Girl grabs it and wiggles it above her head, mocking us.

The six of us on the ground gather in a circle.

"How do we get her down?" Glimmer hisses.

"We can try chopping the tree down," Catalina suggests.

"Or we can set the tree on fire," Marvel says.

"No. I want to kill her myself and watch the life escape from her eyes," Cato growls.

"We're not making any progress!" I yell, frustrated.

Lover Boy sighs. "Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning."

We all agree, and set up our makeshift camp for the night. Lover Boy and Glimmer gather wood for a fire, and Catalina and I go out hunting for supper. We return with a rabbit, two squirrels, and some large bird that somewhat resembles a turkey. We roast our food over the fire and enjoy the meal.

Before we know it, the anthem blares through the arena and the Capitol seal appears in the sky. There were no deaths today, but we'll make up for that. We'll get Fire Girl down one way or another.

The anthem ends and we begin our sleeping shifts. Cato, Catalina, Glimmer, and I settle down and fall asleep while Marvel and Lover Boy keep watch. I fall into a dreamless sleep which is ended abruptly by Lover Boy tapping me with his boot.

"Clove. Wake up," he whispers. It's much gentler than Marvel's wakeup yell.

I sit up and rub my eyes and glance to my left to find Cato sprawled out on the ground, Glimmer holding onto his right arm, her head resting on his bicep. Across the campfire from me is Marvel, already asleep. I'm sure if he was awake, he wouldn't have allowed the display next to me. On the other side of Marvel is Catalina, curled up in a ball. Lover Boy stands silently on my right.

"How long were they…?" I whisper.

"Well, everyone fell asleep pretty fast. After an hour or two, Marvel was getting tired, so I told him I'd keep watch on my own. Glimmer woke up about a half hour later and snuggled up next to Cato," Lover Boy tells me.

I tighten my grip on the knife I'd been clutching all night.

"I know what it's like," Lover Boy whispers. "Wanting someone you can't have."

"What are you talking about?" I hiss.

He smiles, and his face glows in the light of the fire. "Never mind. Do you want to wake Cato up, or should I?"

I grin sinisterly. "I'll do the honor."

I crawl over to Cato and Glimmer. I give him a swift kick to the stomach, which wakes him up effectively. He chokes for air, and when he catches his breath, he looks up at me, pure hate and anger in his eyes.

"What was that for?" he growls.

"You've overslept," I say evenly.

Glimmer woke up when I kicked Cato, but she's curled herself into a ball and gone back to sleep.

Lover Boy lies down and Cato sits up.

"That was a pretty good kick," Cato says after a while. I look up and see the smirk playing across his face. "All that anger because I overslept?"

"Yeah. This is no time for messing around," I reply. "But you and Glimmer seem to disagree."

He chuckles. "Is this still about the kiss?"

"No," I narrow my eyes.

"Then what?"

"Don't play dumb," I hiss. "Letting Glimmer cozy up next to you and sleep on your arm. Pathetic."

"What are you talking about?" he asks.

"Ooh, you're pushing it, Cato. You're really getting under my skin. Don't make my knife get under yours," I growl. I get up and walk into the woods.

"Clove!" I hear him call after me, but I don't turn around.

I keep walking until I'm thrown up against a tree. I lose my knife in the scuffle and am pinned by my wrists to the tree behind me. I look up and see that my attacker is Cato.

"Let go of me," I order.

"Oh, Clove. Little Clove. What's wrong? Not used to jealousy?" he breathes.

"What do you mean, 'jealousy'?" I hiss.

"I think it's…cute. You're acting all innocent when you're the least innocent person I know. Just admit it, Clove," he purrs.

I struggle to break free of his grasp, but he's stronger than I am.

"Admit what?" I growl.

He crashes his lips into mine, and I'm furious. I hate him so much. Why would he do this? In front of an audience, nonetheless. A national audience! The idiot. We're not doing his little star-crossed lover routine. He can go off and do that with Glimmer; I don't care. Just not with me.

I try pulling away, but he moves in closer. I try biting his lip to get him to pull away, but he won't. I bite so hard that I draw blood, but he just growls in return. I don't know why, but some force compels me to kiss back. We kiss for a while, and finally, he pulls away and lets me go. He bends over and picks up my knife.

"I think you dropped this," he says, out of breath.

I snatch the knife out of his hand and walk back to our camp by Fire Girl's tree. I take my seat once more, as does Cato.

"Do you believe me yet?" he asks.

"About Glimmer?" I ask. He nods. "No."

"Why not?"

"Well, you forced me to kiss you back there. How do I know you didn't do the same to Glimmer?"

"Wow, Clove. Your skull must be a mile thick," he laughs.

We sit in silence for the rest of our shift before waking Glimmer and Catalina up. Glimmer crawls over to the trunk of Fire Girl's tree and leans back on it. Catalina takes a seat to Glimmer's left and my right. I lie down so neither one of them can see my face.

After about a half hour, I'm still not asleep. My rage at Cato has me wide awake. Glimmer and Catalina have been talking, but I haven't been listening. That is, until I pick up on their conversation.

"So, you and Marvel haven't been as close lately," Catalina says.

"Yeah, I don't really mind," Glimmer says.

"What? Why?"

"Well, he's cute and all, but he's not nearly as hot as Cato."

"Yeah, but Marvel's in love with you. Cato's not."

"I've got a plan to change that."

"When do you plan on putting it into effect?"

"I already have. The first day in the arena, when Cato and I went out 'hunting a tribute,' I kissed him."

"You didn't!"

"I did. But then Marvel and Little Miss Knives saw us and I had to act like it was Cato who kissed me."

"What did they say?"

"Oh, they believed me over Cato. Marvel was pretty mad. I don't really care, though. I'm done with him. Cato can protect me way better than Marvel can."

"So you're just dumping Marvel?"

"Well, in order to dump someone, you have to have had something with them in the first place."

I open my eyes and look across and see Marvel, who's also awake, eyes blazing with fury.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Ooh, it's getting pretty intense in the world of the Careers. I'm really excited to write more! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Fingers crossed that I'll write and post the next chapter soon!_


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: **Hello, readers! Another quick update because this chapter is relatively short. This chapter is also kind of graphic so, uh, WARNING: blood, murder, and mentions of rape. Hopefully you don't mind, because it_ is_ THG and if you don't expect blood and murder, then I don't know what you're doing reading the series in the first place (especially a fanfic about the two most bloodthirsty tributes in the 74th Games)._

_Anyway, enjoy! :)_

_**Disclaimer: **No, I don't own The Hunger Games. All rights go to Suzanne Collins._

* * *

><p><strong>CLOVE<strong>

I fall asleep shortly after, and dream of pouncing on Glimmer, pinning her to the ground. I cut off all her precious blond locks. I chop each dainty little finger and slice off her perfect little nose. I pull each and every one of her perfect little teeth out slowly and painfully. I laugh maniacally before slicing her ears off, making sure my laugh is the last sound she ever hears. Before gauging her emerald eyes out, I smirk, making sure my face is the last thing she'll ever see. Finally, I plunge my knife deep into her heart, and lick the blood off my knife. It's tangy, metallic, and pure bliss.

I'm slowly pulled to consciousness. I open my eyes and see a figure sitting up. My eyes adjust, and I realize it's Marvel. He crawls over to the sleeping Glimmer—shouldn't she be awake and on watch?—and brings back the spear in his hand, ready to impale Glimmer. I open my mouth to stop him, because Glimmer is _my kill_, but suddenly a gray sphere falls to the ground near Catalina and bursts open. Hundreds and hundreds of golden wasps fly out of it, and as one stings my forehead, I realize they're tracker jackers.

We all scream and someone yells, "To the lake! To the lake!" and we book it out of there. Ahead of me are Marvel, Lover Boy, and Cato; but I pass them all out. I feel the urge to turn around to see if Glimmer and Catalina made it out, but a few dozen of the tracker jackers still swarm around us, and I don't want to risk anything. My one and only goal is to get to the lake and dive in, even though I've never set foot in a large body of water before and have no idea how to swim. I don't care, though. I just don't want to get stung to death.

I receive a sting on my left cheek, and it swells up immediately, shutting my left eye. I've gotten stung on my forehead, cheek, right hand, and twice on my neck already. If we don't make it to the lake before I get stung again, I might very well die of the poison.

Finally, out of my good eye, I see the pyramid of supplies ahead, the sparkling blue lake next to it. My feet carry me right to the edge of the lake, and I jump, landing in the cold water. I open my eye and see four other tributes submerging. It seems to be the four boys in the alliance, meaning Glimmer and Catalina either didn't make it, or are still on their way. Some tracker jackers try to fly in the water, but drown themselves. I run out of breath within seconds, and push myself to the water surface. I look around and see Lover Boy crawling ashore, grabbing an abandoned spear. Cato, who's swimming towards him, seems to be shouting something at him, but I can't make hind or tail of what he's saying, since all I can hear is my own pulse. Marvel's head pops up a few feet from me, followed by Three who looks like he received a sting or two. The tracker jackers have gone, so we begin swimming ashore. Lover Boy takes off into the woods in the direction we came from, Cato stumbling closely behind, sword in hand.

Marvel, Three, and I drag ourselves ashore. I crawl about five feet from the water, and collapse. My eyes flutter shut as I watch Marvel and Three fall to the ground.

**CATO**

I hear the sound of a dull buzzing that gradually gets louder and louder. Suddenly, I'm awoken by shrill screams. I open my eyes and see a nest of…wasps? Bees? No, tracker jackers. Their nest lies on the ground, cracked open like an egg. They swarm around us, stinging mercilessly.

"To the lake!" I hear Lover Boy shout.

I take off, but I can't see very much, since the world around me is swinging back and forth. But I make out Marvel's jacket moving ahead of me and decide to follow it as best I can. The whole world is screaming at me, and I scream back. I feel myself get stung on my temple, my arm, and my neck. Finally, _finally_, I see the blue sparkle of the lake ahead of me. I watch as Clove plunges into the water. I vaguely realize that I dive in too, but as soon as my body hits the water, I feel some relief. I swim up to the surface for air and see Lover Boy already crawling out of the lake. He stands up and grabs a nearby spear. I swim his way.

"Where you going, Lover Boy?" I ask him as I swim closer.

His eyes widen and he runs as best he can back the way we came. I grab my sword laying near the edge of the water and run after him. Neither one of us is running all that well, but I'm catching up to him. Suddenly, a tree root sprouts a hand and grabs my ankle. I fall into a pile of pink feathers and struggle getting back up. I start to lose sight of Lover Boy, but finally I see his sparkling hair about thirty yards away. He's talking to Fire Girl, yelling something at her, pushing her.

"Run! Run!" I hear him yell.

"Traitor!" I shout as I gain on him.

He turns his head and tries to run, but my sword plunges deep into his left thigh.

"Enjoy your slow, painful death," I slur.

He falls to the ground, blood gushing from his thigh.

I begin to see black spots in my eyes, and know that I need to get back to camp before I pass out. I stagger back through the woods as red balloons try to tie themselves around my wrists. I shake them off and almost trip over a puddle of milk. Finally, I see camp. Clove, Marvel, and Three lie on the ground, already passed out. I run as fast as I can, but as soon as I come within twenty feet of them, purple ribbons shoot out of the ground and tie around my wrists and yank me down.

**CLOVE**

I wake up in a solid white room, my wrists chained above my head to the wall behind me. There is a plain white door in front of me, which opens abruptly. Glimmer walks in, wearing a short strapless black dress and high heels.

"Hello, Clove," she purrs.

I try to talk, but find I have no tongue. I am an Avox.

"Looking for this?" she asks, holding my tongue. She proceeds by eating it whole. "Or maybe you're looking for my husband."

The door opens again, and my little brother walks in.

"Rhodon and I are madly in love," she grins. She proceeds by making out with him, right there in front of me. I try to scream, but no sound comes out.

Rhodon walks over to me, and pulls out a rusty, jagged knife from inside his jacket. "Clove," he says. "You shouldn't have sheltered me so much. Had you let me train with you for the Games, I'd know how to kill you quickly and painlessly. But I don't know any better. Looks like this might be pretty painful."

He slashes down my left side, and blood pours out onto the floor. Pain ripples though me, but I still can't scream.

"Not so much at once, babe," Glimmer purrs into Rhodon's ear. "Let a professional show you how it's done."

The door opens once more and I'm expecting my father or my trainer, but Cato walks in.

"Clove," he smiles. "You look so good when you're in pain."

I bear my teeth, but realize that was a mistake when Cato walks over and punches me right in the mouth, knocking all my teeth out in one shot. Blood pours out of my mouth, over my chin, and drips onto the floor.

"That's more like it," Glimmer grins.

"But physical pain only goes so far, Glim," Cato whines. "Her emotions can be toyed with to no end."

"I see where you're going," she smiles.

Glimmer grabs Rhodon and throws him against the wall.

"G-Glimmer?" he squeaks. "Glimmer, I thought you loved me."

She walks over to him and picks him up by the neck. She bites his ear and tears it off. He screams so loud that I feel my heart shatter into a million pieces. I pull on my shackles and try to break free, but they're too strong and I've lost too much blood. All this strenuous movement starts up the blood flow from the wound on my side.

Glimmer eats Rhodon's ear and his screams chill my blood. I hate her with every ounce of my being. Cato walks over towards Glimmer and Rhodon, but she senses this and stabs him repeatedly with the same knife Rhodon used to cut open my side. Cato dies, and Glimmer turns back to Rhodon. I'm screaming silently and pulling my chains and kicking the wall behind me, but she ignores me. She kisses Rhodon, them bites his lips off. She traces around where his heart is with her sharp little fingernails, then digs them into his chest and scoops out his heart. Her eyes light up wildly and she looks over at me and grins the sickest grin I've ever seen. She pries open my mouth and feeds me my brother's still-beating heart. Then she holds up the knife with Cato's, Rhodon's, and my blood splattered on it, and digs in into my skull.

I scream myself to consciousness where my voice once again has a sound. I jolt into an upright position and see Marvel and Three, already awake, looking at me. I gasp for air as my heart pounds in my chest.

"How…how long was I out?" I splutter.

"About two days," Three says.

I look around and see Cato, still unconscious, several feet away from me. So Glimmer didn't really stab him to death after all.

"What happened to Lover Boy and Glimmer and Catalina?" I ask.

"I woke up a little before sunset two days ago and when the anthem played, Glimmer and Catalina were in the sky," Three tells me. "As for Peeta, I'm not sure."

"Well, I saw Cato chase after him, but I guess he's still alive somewhere," I say.

I look over at Marvel, who looks miserable.

"I saw that you were awake when Glimmer was saying about how her love for me wasn't real," he says to me.

"And I saw that you were about to spear her in her sleep right before the tracker jacker nest fell," I reply.

He looks surprised that I knew about his little death plot. "She broke my heart," his voice catches.

"She was my kill," I growl.

"Yeah, well, neither of us got to kill her," Marvel grumbles.

"Fire Girl," I snarl. That bitch cut the nest down from her tree and dropped it on us. It's because of her that I have all these lumps on my body. It's because of her that I have one less kill. I vow from here on that I will kill her, and it will be the most beautiful death anyone will ever see.

I look over at Marvel and Three and see that their stings are not nearly as swollen as mine.

"Why aren't your stings as swollen as mine?" I ask them.

"We dug the stingers out," Three says.

I reach up to my cheek and dig the stinger out. Pus flows out, and the swelling goes down enough for my eye to open.

_I could really use a cold compress now, sponsors_, I think to myself.

I dig the rest of my stingers out, and all the lumps deflate to half their original size. By the time I've finished, the sun sets and we eat dinner. In the middle of dinner, Cato finally wakes up.

"No. No. No! NO! NOOO!" he shouts as he's pulled to consciousness.

He sits up straight, breathing heavily. He looks over at me, and his shoulders relax. A sinister scowl crosses his face.

"I'm killing Fire Girl," he booms. "None of you are stopping me."

**CATO**

_This must be a nightmare_, I think to myself. But if it's a nightmare, why can't I wake up?

All the greatest terrors I've ever thought of, along with all the terrors that I've never even imagined haunt me. I've seen my mother die at the hands of my father several times, I've watched as Mom married President Snow twice, I've felt my siblings tear my body apart, and I even had to watch my brother rape Clove.

Finally, some force brings me back to the real world. I jolt upright and start panting; expecting the next onslaught of misery, but it never comes. I look around, thankful to be in the real world, even if that is in the arena.

I look over and see Clove, looking at me quizzically. A wave of relief washes over me when I realize she wasn't raped by Atticus, therefore proving that all the other nightmares weren't real.

Then I realize what—namely, _who_—brought on these terrible nightmares. Fire Girl.

I look over at the others and declare, "I'm killing Fire Girl. None of you are stopping me."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Cato," Clove says. "You just woke up. We can't go hunting quite yet."

I sigh and walk over to the campfire where Clove, Marvel, and Three are sitting and eating supper. I grab a strip of dried beef and take a seat.

"What happened to…?" I trail off.

"Glimmer and Catalina were killed by the tracker jackers," Three says.

"And Lover Boy?" I ask.

"He's still out there somewhere."

"Not for long. I cut his thigh pretty deep," I say. "How long was I out?"

"A little more than two days," Three says.

We eat in silence for a while before Clove suddenly says, "What are our arrangements for sleeping shifts?"

"We'll do two 5-hour shifts," I say. "You and I will take first watch and Marvel and Three will take second watch."

The sun sets and the anthem plays, revealing that there were no deaths today. Marvel and Three head off to bed, while Clove and I stay out by the fire. I'm at my usual spot, but today Clove is on the same log as me.

She fiddles with her knife for a little while, before mumbling something.

"What's that?" I ask.

"I don't want to say it again."

"I honestly didn't hear you," I tell her.

"I was wrong," she says.

I look down to my right at her, and see her looking straight ahead.

"The other night, out in the woods, everyone else was sleeping, and Glimmer and Catalina were talking. Glimmer was saying that she wasn't interested in Marvel, but she was trying to get with you. Then she said she kissed you that day, not the other way around. I should have believed you," Clove whispers.

I smile a triumphant grin. She looks up at me and scowls.

"Wipe that smile off your face before I cut it off," she hisses, and I laugh. "What's so funny?"

"You were so vulnerable for a minute there, but then you went right back to being tough as nails," I laugh.

"I don't find the humor in that," she snarls. "And take the stingers out of your stings; you look like a fool."

"The stingers are in there?" I ask.

"Yes, you idiot."

I look at the lump on my left arm, but don't see a stinger. "Where?"

Clove grabs my arm and sinks her fingernail into the sting and retrieves the small thorn.

"See?" she says, holding it up.

"Yeah, I see."

She flicks the stinger away and looks up at me. Suddenly, she flings herself at me and starts kissing me roughly. I pull her closer and start kissing back. I really hope she bites my lip again, because that was really hot last time.

"I hate you," she mumbles between kisses.

"I hate you more," I murmur back.

We keep doing this for a while but Clove pushes away.

"I don't want this," she pants.

"What do you want?" I breathe.

"Victory."

I can relate. I want nothing more than to win and get the hell out of this arena. But that means Clove's death. That's a concept that I can't wrap my mind around. What's more, it's something that I don't want to happen, and I don't know why. I don't want to see her go. She and I are so much alike, and I find myself getting attached to her. I shouldn't though. I don't want to be upset when she dies, and most of all, I don't want to be the one to kill her.


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: **Sorry it took me so long to update. I have another project that I started (my SYOT, "Deception") and I've been back and forth writing this and that. I apologize for this chapter being so short, but even so, I'm still farther ahead in this story than when all this takes place in the book (in the book, this takes place from Ch. 16 - the beginning of Ch. 17). The way things are looking, this story will only have about 20 chapters and an epilogue. We still have a long way to go, so without further ado, here's chapter 14!_

**_Disclaimer: _**_The Hunger Games series in no way belongs to me. If it did, I'd be rich._

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><p><strong>CLOVE<strong>

I don't know why I kissed him. Maybe it was because he seemed vulnerable with all those stings that he didn't know how to deflate. Or maybe it was just my apology for believing Glimmer over him and his kisses back were his forgiveness. Or maybe it was because I am a weak teenage girl who was sitting next to—let's face it—a really attractive, muscular boy.

No, I am not weak. I am strong. I cannot have any emotions. I refuse to show any thoughts or feelings for the remainder of the Games.

The next morning, at the break of dawn, Marvel and Three wake Cato and me up. Three stays at camp while Marvel, Cato, and I head out to hunt tributes. We walk around for a little while, before I hear running. Limping, actually. Maybe it's Lover Boy. When I see the black hair and tan skin, I know it's not him.

"This one's mine," I tell the boys as I run after my next victim.

I'm on him in no time at all. I pounce on his back and flip him over to face me.

"Hey there," I smirk. "What's your name, boy?"

He struggles, trying to lift me off of him, but it's no use.

"Tell me your name!" I shout at him.

"You don't deserve to know!" he chokes out.

"Well, can I at least know what district you're from?" I purr.

"Ten," he barks.

"District Ten, hmm?" I smile. "I believe I killed your district partner in the bloodbath. Easy target. Just like you."

"Don't you dare say such lies!" he yells.

"Oh, I'm not lying. You're fun to toy with, I'll give you that. But you make such an easy kill," I tell him. "Now, let's get down to business. Any last words?"

He shudders, closing his eyes tightly. "I'm sorry, Mama. I know I promised to make it home. Take care."

"Aw, how sweet," I say, looking at his arm. There's a hole burned out of his jacket on his upper arm, the skin scorched. "Had a little trouble with fire?"

He glares hatefully at me.

"Let's fix that up," I tell him, sawing his arm off.

He weeps silently, teeth clenched. I slowly slit his throat open, and the cannon fires.

I search him for supplies, and find a half-eaten pack of beef strips, a nearly-full water bottle, and a meager knife.

"Let's head out," Cato says.

I eat the beef strips on the way back to camp, even though we're going there to eat lunch. We make it back by early afternoon and eat some more of our beef strips and dried fruit, but we're all itching for something better. It turns out that Catalina left a net set up in the lake, and there must be at least a dozen fish trapped in it. I wade into the water and grab the net, whooping when I see the bounty of fish. I haul it back to the others, and we each cook our own fish and eat the whole thing.

After lunch, we decide to relax for about a half hour and then head back into the woods to hunt. We sit around for a while, doing whatever we feel like. Cato sharpens his sword, Marvel rests against a log, Three fiddles with some plastic box, and I carve at a log. Suddenly, Cato jolts up.

"Guys, look. Some idiot started a fire out in the woods. Let's go," he says. Marvel and I get up, grabbing our weapons. "You too, Three."

"What?" Marvel shouts. "We need him to guard the supplies."

"There are four of us left in this alliance. We need all the manpower we can get," Cato says.

"And we don't need him guarding the supplies?" Marvel counters.

"He's coming. We need him in the woods, and his job's done here anyway. No one can touch those supplies," Cato barks.

"What about Lover Boy?" Marvel asks. "I know he knows how to get them."

"I keep telling you, forget about him. I know where I cut him. It's a miracle he hasn't bled to death yet. At any rate, he's in no shape to raid us," Cato tells him.

Marvel shakes his head, but Cato doesn't notice.

"Come on," Cato calls to Three, handing him a spear.

We break out into a run towards the fire.

"When we find her, I kill her in my own way, and no one interferes," Cato growls as we enter the woods.

We finally reach the sight of the fire. No one is around, so we search the area for about a half hour. Angry, we regroup and try to form some kind of a plan to find the tribute, when Marvel points to the sky. Sure enough, there's more smoke. What's going on? Why would someone set a fire, leave, and set a second one? Unless…

"Guys, I don't know about this," Three says as we travel towards the second fire. "It seems fishy to me. I mean, why would someone set a fire, run away, and start another one? It just seems like a trap."

"We're finding this tribute one way or another," Marvel growls, a strange look in his eyes. They don't look the same. They're wild. Insane. Bloodthirsty.

We approach the second fire to find the same scene: a lit fire, no tribute in sight. Suddenly, a loud explosion erupts from the direction of our camp. The ground shakes, and we're thrown to the ground. Smoke fills the air, and as soon as the ground stops moving, we leap to our feet and head towards camp.

A few stray explosions catch us off guard, but we make it to camp in almost no time at all. Sure enough, the explosions were the landmines we buried the first day. All our supplies are destroyed, including the fish from this afternoon. The only supplies we have left are the ones we've been carrying. We're all livid, but Cato is by far the maddest. He yells and shouts, tears at his hair and pounds the ground.

Three tosses a few rocks at the smoldering remains of our supplies and declares all the mines activated. We walk closer to the wreckage and try to find anything we can salvage. Cato throws and kicks some of the burnt boxes and crates, screaming every foul word in the dictionary. Suddenly, he turns to Three.

"What a good plan!" he yells sarcastically. "Place some landmines around our supplies, that'll do the trick! Nothing bad could come from this!"

Three backs away slowly, overcome with fear.

"I'm s-sorry," he whimpers.

"We have NO supplies thanks to you!" Cato shouts.

Three turns to run, but Cato grabs him by the neck, puts his hand on Three's head, and—snap!—with one flick of the wrist, the boy from District 3 is dead, his cannon fires. Cato tosses the boy's body at the ground and turns towards Marvel and me.

"We're going back to the woods. We're finding whoever set off the mines," he hollers.

"No, Cato," I say, cautiously walking towards him. "Don't you see? Whoever set off the mine had to have been killed in the explosion."

"Then where's their body? The hovercraft? The cannon?" he shouts.

"The hovercraft probably picked up their body as soon as the explosions finished when we were back by the fire," I tell him.

"The cannon could have fired during the explosion," Marvel agrees.

Cato exhales deeply. "Alright. Go get us some squirrels or rabbits or something," he tells me.

I head into the woods and manage to bring back three squirrels a half hour later. We make a spit and roast the squirrels. By the time we're finished eating, the sun has set and the anthem begins to play. The seal appears in the sky and Three's picture flashes in the sky. The boy from Ten appears, followed by the Capitol seal and final musical flourish, and the sky goes dark.

"I hope you two had enough sleep last night," Cato says. "We're hunting her down tonight."

With that, Cato and I slip on our night vision goggles and Marvel lights a tree branch to use as a torch. We take to the woods, determined to kill Fire Girl.


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N: **Hello, readers! Sorry for the wait, but I had really bad writer's block once again. This chapter is a little... Well, I'll let you read it first, and I'll meet you at the bottom!_

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><p><strong>CLOVE<strong>

We've been searching the woods for hours, and there's been no sign of anyone.

"How many tributes are left?" Marvel asks.

"Eight. There are us three, Red from District 5, both from 11, and both from 12," Cato says.

"The final eight," I smile. Once the Games reach the final eight tributes, camera crews from the Capitol go to the Districts to interview the friends and family of the surviving tributes. I wonder if they've spoken with Rhodon yet.

Day comes, and I feel my eyelids begin to droop.

"Cato, we need to sleep. Just for a little while. Please," I tell him.

"Fine," he sighs. "One person sleeps, the other two will watch. We'll only sleep for an hour or two each, and then we'll head out."

I take the first sleeping shift, and when I wake up, I'm not satisfied with the short amount of time I was given. Still, I don't trust Marvel or Cato to keep watch alone while two of us sleep.

Marvel sleeps next, and Cato spends the shift sharpening his sword.

"You want to kill him now and get it over with?" I ask Cato.

"No, we need him to help us find her. He's good with making traps; I've seen him in training. All we need is some rope or a net," Cato says.

In response, a silver parachute floats down and lands between the two of us. Inside is a black net, perfect for trapping Fire Girl.

We wake Marvel up, and Cato goes to sleep. I explain to Marvel about the net and how Cato wants us to trap Fire Girl.

"Oh yeah, I can set this up no problem," Marvel says.

We wake Cato up and Marvel explains the plan he's been formulating.

"I'll head to the clearing to set up this net. You two will search the area, and if you find anyone, drive them towards the net. I'll have it set up about twenty yards into the woods, so be careful not to get yourselves caught in it," Marvel explains. "Got it?"

"Does this mean you'll kill whoever gets caught in the net?" I ask him angrily. If I'm going to be chasing someone around, it better be my kill.

"Not at all!" Marvel says, but I don't trust him. The guy's as slippery as a bar of soap.

"Alright," Cato says. "Go get started with that net. We'll start hunting."

As soon as we're out of earshot, I whisper to Cato, "You're not going to chase anyone into that net, are you?"

"Of course not. If we do that, he'll kill whoever he traps. When we find someone, we're killing them," Cato says.

The rest of the afternoon is spent scouring the arena. We can't find anyone. Shouldn't the Gamemakers be using some sort of device to drive the tributes closer? Unless tributes are already near.

Suddenly, someone's cannon fires. Did Marvel's trap really work? Or was there another fight going on in the arena?

"Who do you suppose that was?" I ask Cato, who froze in place.

"Maybe nature finally took care of Lover Boy," he says, unmoving.

"Let's hope," I mumble.

We start to walk back as we hear another cannon fire. Cato and I look at each other, and sprint to the clearing where Marvel was setting up the net. It takes us about ten minutes to get there, and when we do, there's a pile of colorful flowers on top of the torn net, along with a puddle of blood about ten yards away.

"What the hell…?" Cato says, shaking his head.

I have no explanation for what happened. I call for Marvel, but there's no response. We call his name and search the area, but there's only one explanation for why he's nowhere in sight.

"One of those cannons was his," I tell Cato.

Cato nods. "That other cannon better not have been Fire Girl's."

"It could've been. Maybe Lover Boy crawled over and buried her in flowers after she died," I say.

"Or maybe it was Lover Boy who died and Fire Girl buried him in flowers," Cato suggests, strangely optimistic.

I nod. "So…there are six of us left now?"

"Mhm. You're not breaking our alliance yet, are you?" Cato asks, gripping his sword a little tighter.

"Nah, let's kill about two more, and then we can kill each other," I tell him.

"Sounds like a deal," Cato says.

The sun begins to set, and I'm starving.

"Let's hunt down some food and go to sleep," I say. "I'm in no shape to stay up all night again."

We walk around the woods for a bit before coming across one of the birds I found the night of the tracker jacker incident. I flick a knife at it, and Cato picks it up.

"Nice shot," he comments.

We skin the bird and roast it on a spit. We split the bird evenly between us. It crosses my mind that I haven't eaten today until now, and maybe that's why I gobble down my half in ten minutes flat. It satisfies me, though; and Cato finishes his half just in time for the anthem to start.

"The moment of truth," Cato murmurs.

The seal appears in the sky, followed by Marvel's picture, as I expected. The face in the sky next is not someone I anticipated. It's the little girl from District 11.

"I guess it was that little girl who got buried in flowers," Cato says. "I wonder who did it."

"Well, I doubt it was Red," I think out loud. "She doesn't seem like one to risk being out in the open to adorn someone's body with flowers. I can't imagine Thresh even touching a flower. I don't think Lover Boy is in any shape to be able to move back and forth to gather flowers to bury the girl in. So, I guess that leaves our dear pal from District Twelve. It makes sense, her allying with the little girl. Fire Girl doesn't seem smart enough to actually pick a useful ally."

"She's been a thorn in my side for way too long. She killed off nearly every member of our alliance. When I get my revenge, oh, will it be sweet," Cato sneers.

We sit in silence for a while when I feel my eyes beginning to close. "Cato, what will our sleeping shifts be, now that there's just you and me?"

"Five hours of sleep each?" he suggests.

"Okay. But can I take the first sleep? I'm starting to doze off just sitting here."

"Alright, go ahead," Cato says.

I lie down on the ground and already miss our tent back at camp, with the pillows and blankets and warmth. I begin shivering violently as the temperature drops rapidly.

"Clove?" Cato asks.

"What?"

"Are you cold?"

_No, I'm shivering because it's a very pleasant night. _"I'm alright," I tell him. I roll onto my other side and look at him. He appears sort of bluish and is shivering horribly as well.

"N-no you're not," he shudders. "Neither am I. Please, sh-share body heat?"

I nod. I crawl over to him and he motions for me to sit on his lap, so I do. I tuck my knees against my chest and rest my head on Cato's shoulder. He wraps his arms around me, and we both gradually warm up. I somehow fall asleep like this, and when I wake up, it's daytime. I stir, which seems to wake Cato.

"Shit," he says, lifting me off of him and standing up. "I wasn't supposed to fall asleep. I have no idea what time it is."

I look up in the sky and see the sun slightly towards the west. "Looks like early afternoon."

"How did we both sleep for so long?" Cato growls.

"Probably because you were so adamant about finding Fire Girl two nights ago that you made us scour the woods all night with no sleep," I scoff.

"Well, come on. Let's make up for it. Let's get out there and kill someone," he says, walking deeper into the woods.

We walk and walk, but find no one. As the sun begins to set, we decide to stop for a while to eat. Cato and I come across a stream, and take the opportunity to fill our water skins. Cato stabs some fish with his spear, and we roast and eat them.

"So what do you think is stopping the Gamemakers from driving us closer to some tributes?" I ask Cato.

"I dunno. Maybe we're near someone. Or maybe some tributes are battling," he shrugs. I've never seen Cato in such a strange mood. He seems almost…normal. Not normal for him, but the way a normal boy would act. Cato is always so hostile, brutal, and bloodthirsty. But he's acting so calm and almost indifferent to the other tributes, when just this afternoon, he was eager to tear the head off the first person he came across. Which was no one. Maybe he's finally gone insane from lack of killing.

The anthem plays, and no faces appear in the sky. Cato shakes his head slowly and finishes off his last bit of fish when the sound of trumpets blares through the arena. I realize why there were no tributes around: the Gamemakers have set a feast. Sure enough, Claudius Templesmith's voice booms throughout the arena. But his words are not about a feast.

"Congratulations to our final six tributes of the 74th Hunger Games. There has been a slight rule change. Under this new rule, both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive. Again, if both tributes from the same district are the final two alive, they will be crowned victors. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

My mouth hangs open. I turn to Cato, whose face is turned towards the sky. He turns to look at me.

"I don't have to kill you," he whispers.

Some strange force launches me at Cato, who catches me in his arms.

"We can win, we can win," I repeat in his ear.

I hug Cato tightly, refusing to ever let go. We're a team now. Not that we haven't been before. But up until this point, there was the common knowledge that eventually, we'd have to kill each other. Strangely, I'm glad I won't have to kill Cato. Sure, he's annoyed me to no end since the reaping, but right here, right now in his arms, I realize how alike we really are. We're both teenagers from District Two who were trained to kill since we could toddle. We're bloodthirsty, relentless, and maybe a little insane. To be honest, I don't think I could kill Cato if I had to. We're too alike. Killing him would be like killing myself.

Cato pulls away from me slightly and starts kissing me roughly. I surprise myself by kissing back even rougher. We do this for a while, stopping when we're finally out of breath. I realize it's gotten quite cold again when I begin shivering from the severe drop in temperature. Cato motions for me to sit on his lap again, and I do.

"Don't fall asleep again," I tell him. "If you feel yourself falling asleep, wake me and I'll keep watch."

"Can you take first watch tonight?" Cato asks. "I'm really tired."

"Sure," I tell him, because I slept for at least 14 hours last night, and I'm not even the slightest bit tired.

I rest my head in the crook of Cato's neck, and he rests his head on mine and falls asleep. It's a very strange thing for us to do; trusting each other whole-heartedly, that is. But what would we get out of killing each other at this point? The whole country would shun whichever of us killed the other.

I begin thinking about the rule change. Surely it was not intended for us. It was for the two lovebirds from District Twelve. Does the Capitol, and all of Panem, for that manner, assume Cato and I are lovebirds too? I'm confident that I don't love Cato. Sure, we've kissed on more than one occasion. That doesn't mean we love each other, though. We simply care about each other. The Capitol is feeding this care by imposing this rule.

Does the Capitol expect the Twelves to win? Is that why they came up with this rule? Do they really think Fire Girl and the nearly-dead Lover Boy can defeat Cato and me? If they do, they have another thing coming. Cato and I are going to win. We've trained our whole lives for this. Those lovebirds better watch out. Tomorrow morning, we're coming after them. Only one pair of district partners are making it out of these Games alive, and it sure won't be them.

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><p><em><strong>AN: **I'm sorry this chapter was so awful. Really, really sorry. It was kind of rushed, but if I didn't rush through, I think it would have been boring._

_I also realize lots of parts of this chapter were a little fluffy and probably OOC, but I didn't know what else to write to make this chapter interesting since not much happened (aside from Marvel and Rue's deaths, and of course the whole "two-victors announcement," but whatevs)._

_Hopefully I'll make up for the suckiness next chapter, which should be a little more interesting than this one. It's almost the end of our little story, and I don't think there will be more than 20 chapters (if that). I plan on writing an epilogue from their after-life, which should be the best part of the whole story!_

_My next update won't be for a while, since I'm writing this story and "Deception," my SYOT. For now, I hope you enjoyed this chapter (*cringe*)._

_Until next time! :)_


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